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The « 


Queen of Quelparte 


A Story of Russian Intrigue 
in the Far Fast 


B y 


Archer Butler Hulbert 

■I 

Illustrated by Winfield S. Lukens 



Boston 

Little, Brown, and Company 
! 9°4 



I 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

m 27 1904 

4 

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Copyright , igoi , igo 2 , igc>4 , 

By Archer Butler Hulbert. 

^// rights reserved 


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THE UNIVERSITY PRESS 
CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. 


TO 

MY MOTHER 

AND 


THE MEMORY OF OUR HAPPY DAYS WHEN IT 
WAS WRITTEN, WITH DEEPEST AFFECTION 


I DEDICATE THIS BOOK 


PREFACE 


events in the chapters, “ The Imperial Funeral ” 
and “ The Signal of the Scabbard,” are derived 
largely from the author’s letters to American 
papers written from Korea at that time. 

But there is something more vital here than 
certain descriptions and incidents, and that is 
the spirit of Russian intrigue and Russian ag- 
gression. The thread of the love drama is, of 
course, a fiction of the author’s, which all will 
recognize, but the record of Russian methods 
of intrigue in the East, of her infinite scorn of 
truth, of the depths of her deceit, of the intense 
liveliness of that old dream of Peter the Great, 
of Russia’s purposes in acquiring possession of 
Korea, and of the reason for her throwing it 
away again, is essentially true. 

The Will of Peter the Great, referred to in 
Chapter Second, is kept in the secret archives 
of the Russian government with vigilant care 
and religious reverence. It is inscribed : “ The 
Secret Plan of European Supremacy left by 
Peter the Great to his Successors on the 
Russian Throne.” 


Archer B. Hulbert. 


viii 


Contents 


Chapter Page 

I. Sealed Orders i 

II. A Dream that Lives 4 

III. A Lesson Early Learned 14 

IV. The Secret of Lynx Island 26 

V. The Road to Wun Chow 40 

VI. The Temple of Ching-Ling 51 

VII. A Last Service 61 

VIII. The Cue of a Queue 71 

IX. The Holocaust 83 

X. At the End of the Sea 93 

XI. Keinning 106 

XII. One Lie I Never Told 115 

XIII. A New Program 122 

XIV. Dulcine 132 

XV. An Early Morning’s Task 147 

XVI. The King 155 

XVII. A Queen Incognito 163 

XVIII. The Trail of Earth 173 

XIX. The Imperial Funeral 181 

XX. The Signal of the Scabbard 195 

XXI. The Masquerader 203 

XXII. A Rude Awakening 213 


IX 


CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

XXIII. Nsase, the Sword-Dancer 220 

XXIV. The Keeper of the Tomb 233 

XXV. Emmile 246 

XXVI. A New Dejneff 255 

XXVII. “Oranoff” 262 

XXVIII. Kim 272 

XXIX. A Queen’s Soul Rampant ...... 289 

XXX. The Flight of a Soul ....... 297 

XXXI. A Helping Hand 304 

XXXII. The Passing of Ivan Oranoff .... 312 

XXXIII. The Camel’s Head 320 

XXXIV. Ensemble 325 


x 


Ill ustrations 


‘ Father,’ she said slowly, * may I present Mr. Robert 


Martyn ? ’” Frontispiece 

He raised aloft the head of the corpse at his feet ” Page 80 
1 Colonel Li was lost too,’ I murmured ” .... “ 120 

Men of commanding stature and voice read the 

proclamation aloud ” “ 164 

‘ I have gained all you have lost”’ “ 209 

* Kim, lad, you know me, you must know me ! ’ I 

cried” “ 284 



The Queen of Ouelparte 


CHAPTER ONE 

SEALED ORDERS 

I STARED over the railing upon the chang- 
ing face of the sea ; the long sweep of the 
hungry billows, the blue-black troughs between 
them, the deceptive, curling crests plunging 
one after another like thundering columns of 
plumed cavalry driven at the freak of the winds, 
matched perfectly the incoherent turmoil of my 
thoughts. 

Miss Oranoff’s chair was close to mine, but 
a great gulf separated us, such as will come 
sometimes between friends when mutual ex- 
planations are long over-due; and the silence 
of that gulf lay heavy upon us after my first 
words of hot resentment, which made a pale girl 
paler still and an angry man not less angry. 

What Dulcine Oranoff and I had been to 
each other matters little to the record of what 
we became ; but it mattered very much to me 
that she had left Washington without one hint 

« h ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

or word of farewell, as though I were no more 
to her than a Legation lackey. I had at least 
been more than that. 

And now, while pacing the deck before read- 
ing the strange letter my father had bade me 
not to open until I was on the sea, I found her, 
to whom I half feared it related, smothered in 
rugs in a steamer-chair near the Captain’s 
cabin — a passenger on my own good ship 
“ Gaelic ” to China! 

I would not speak, and she, it seemed, could 
not, and as we sat like pouting children in 
dogged silence my thick thoughts stumbled on 
from one impossible explanation to another 
more impossible, and it was not until I thought 
again of my father’s strange letter that I saw 
any light. One mystery sometimes unravels 
another, as one poison is an antidote to an- 
other, and it occurred to me that that letter 
might explain this other mystery, which was 
so like slow poison to me. 

But as I arose to go I found a gentleman 
behind us, and Dulcine sat up quickly at 
sight of him. 

“ Father,” she said slowly, “ may I present 
Mr. Robert Martyn?” Then, in a moment she 
[ 2 ] 


SEALED ORDERS 


continued, not without a catch in the words 
which belied their formality : “ Robert, my 
father — Colonel Oranoff.” The swift glance, 
the low tone, the halting words, coupled with 
my knowledge that the name Oranoff was not 
on the steamer’s passenger-list, made it plain 
that the two were traveling incognito. 

Colonel Ivan Oranoff had married a Wash- 
ington lady and maintained a home in Wash- 
ington, though he was detailed abroad almost 
constantly in the Russian diplomatic service. 
His name was well known in many lands, and 
the man was said to be known even where his 
name was not ! 

The commonplaces of introduction were 
quickly over, and Miss Oranoff hastened my 
departure by lightly scoring me for not having 
read my steamer letters. 

Not one word about steamer letters had 
passed between us! 

“ Read those from home first,” she called after 
me, despite a quick, low word from her father. 
The command, with its distinct challenge, made 
me surer than before of the secret within a 
secret which that one envelope would explain. 


[ 3 ] 


CHAPTER TWO 


A DREAM THAT LIVES 

HENEVER I look back to those hours 



in which I determined to enter the em- 


ploy of Colonel Oranoff of the Russian Ser- 
vice, my father’s lifelong friend, I remember 
best my light-hearted carelessness — and I am 
sobered. How much Youth owes to Ignorance ; 
its buoyancy, its indomitable hopefulness, its 
reckless self-confidence, were, each and all, im- 
possible but for that monstrous debt. 

“ I have never urged you, Robert,” the letter 
ran, “to interest yourself in this game we play, 
but it is the one grand game of the world. 
Where else are the stakes so great — the gains 
and losses so momentous ? This offer of 
Oranoff ’s gives you a splendid chance to ‘ take 
a hand,’ if you care to. I determined to let 
you come to your own decision alone at sea. 
Make it and cable me from Yokohama. You 
have knocked around the East enough to fit 


[ 4 ] 


A DREAM THAT LIVES 


you for such business; this with your West 
Point training makes you the very man Oranoff 
needs.” 

For what business I had been fitted by fol- 
lowing, two years before, a runaway Celestial 
army, might well be considered a Chinese 
puzzle, yet such had been my chief experience 
in the East. During the Japan-China war I 
had been an aide to an American army officer, 
Colonel French, detailed to study the Chinese 
campaign, and we had followed the Yellow 
Dragon throughout the inglorious retreat from 
Korea to Pekin; from Wun Lung we got back 
to Tu Loo and Tu Lung, and if there had 
been more Loos and Lungs between that and 
the palpitating heart of the thing, Pekin, I 
doubt not we would have gone there too. But 
the Russian Bear, in his humorous but favorite 
role of White- Winged Dove of Peace, stepped 
in and put a stop to the war through fear 
Japan would keep what he wanted, — Port 
Arthur, the Gibraltar of the East. After that, 
Colonel French and I could have given points 
to a stampeding herd of cattle — but what 
else were we good for? 

This, with a lazy journey through Europe, 

[ 5 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

homeward, made up the sum of my experience 
in the golden East. Yet I had acquired a 
thing of which I did not know ; it was the 
Travel-Fever. 

Have you had that fever ? If not, you have 
escaped the most pitiless disease ; one knows 
not when he contracts it and it never leaves. 
Other fevers burn themselves out, or snuff out 
the patient and die down with the life-light. 
This fever never dies ; it fills the sufferer’s 
eyes with aching dreams of quaint harbors 
almost, but not quite, reached ; his ears ring 
with a new coolie chorus all but clearly heard; 
it fills his nostrils with the medley scent of 
flower fetes more beautiful than any he ever 
saw; it rages in his brain with luring sugges- 
tions of odd shadows on unfamiliar hillsides ; 
he hears new voices laughing beneath new 
trees, weird temple bells tinkling in the night ; 
and, now and again, he sees the battered prows 
of a ship come ’longside out of an unknown 
sea. Other fevers freeze at Death’s touch — but 
does the Travel-Fever ? Some say yes, some 
no, and many are silent here. 

“ The note enclosed,” the letter went on, 
“ states in my name that you will meet Colonel 
[ 6 ] 


A DREAM THAT LIVES 


Oranoft in the Captain’s cabin the midnight 
following its receipt. Send it, and go to-night, 
lad. Cable me your resignation, and we will 
send another man to Tokyo.” 

The sea was calm at eventide and the moon 
shone bright. After the dancing Dulcine and 
I found our chairs and looked out happily 
upon the glistening wastes. If we were quiet 
now it was because the waves were quiet — the 
baffling winds had left us all to peace. We 
had prettily made our mutual confessions, the 
burden of mine being that I was no sailor and 
could not have read a steamer letter, though it 
contained a will leaving me the steamship line 
for an inheritance. 

The lights danced high in Dulcine Oranoff’s 
large black eyes while we hinted of the days 
ahead. I was surprised to find how fully this 
girl shared her serious father’s confidences. 
She soon told me that their destination was 
Keinning, the old capital of Quelparte. 

“ We are to settle Japan’s and China’s ancient 
quarrel for its possession,” I volunteered, look- 
ing at my watch. 

“Yes,” Dulcine answered me slowly. 

“ In favor of neither? ” 

[ 7 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ In favor of neither/’ the girl replied as we 
arose. 

When, a few minutes later, I was admitted 
to the Captain’s cabin, Colonel Oranoff wel- 
comed me with genuine warmth to his great 
table covered with a mass of papers and maps. 
For a time he spoke of my father, and I soon 
caught the drift of his reminiscences, in which 
he implied a great trust and confidence in me 
for my father’s sake. He could not have done 
this in a more charming indirect way, and it 
won me to him even more than anything my 
father had written. For a time then he re- 
mained silent, resting his pale face on his 
hands, gazing down upon the littered table. 

A large map, oddly marked in red and white, 
hung on the wall near me and at once attracted 
my attention. The man at the table came to 
me at last, his eyes also upon this map. 

“You are looking at Peter’s map?” he 
asked. Then, without awaiting a reply, he 
continued, stroking it with the end of a pencil 
as he spoke. “ Peter the Great made a will 
and bequeathed to Russia this eastern half of 
the world. The red,” and here the pencil 
swept swiftly from St. Petersburg to Korea, 
[ 8 ] 


A DREAM THAT LIVES 


“ shows the portion of our inheritance we have 
received ; the white we have not yet obtained.” 

“ The will has been contested,” I commented, 
dryly enough. 

“ And is still in litigation,” Oranoff answered 
suggestively. I was looking beyond Korea to 
Quelparte. 

“ Quelparte is still white,” I said. The man 
looked at me one moment and understood. 
“You have not danced all the evening,” he 
commented with a pleasant nod. Then he 
turned quickly to the map and his face grew 
stern as he answered me : “ But it will be red, 
Marty n, before a single month has passed. 
The Czar has a Razor for every beard; men 
talk of the power of Russian armies, but they 
are nothing to the secret service men who are 
fast realizing Peter’s Dream. The heavier the 
beard the sharper the Razor — and the rule 
works both ways, even while Czars come and 
go. That Dream is still president.” 

There was fire in the words and the man 
unconsciously raised a hand as he spoke them 
as though swearing a holy oath. I was thrilled. 

How that old dream does live on! — aye, 
and will live while most dreams are dead and 
[ 9 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

forgotten. Peter left the eastern continent to 
Russia. If this was not the first it was the 
greatest will ever broken. By some cruel 
mockery of fate Russia has come into the 
possession of the greatest but least desirable 
portion of its inheritance, the deserts of Asia 
and Siberia; but Europe and India, Persia and 
China are, for some reason, still unconquered. 
My thoughts ran back to Quelparte. 

“ There is a Razor, then, for the King of 
Quelparte ? ” 

“ For this reason,” said Oranoff, coming close 
to me; “we are about to lease Port Arthur 
from China ; that will make Japan wild. I am 
to go and conquer Quelparte with gold roubles 
— the King and his nobles ; when that is 
done — ” the man threw his hands apart 
quickly and looked to me. 

“Throw Quelparte over as a sop to Japan 
to avert war and — ” 

“ And keep Port Arthur,” said Oranoff, sink- 
ing into his chair, evidently satisfied with me. 

The wind was rising, and as the prow of our 
ship pounded into the trough of the sea the 
great red and white map floated lazily out from 
its anchorage on the wall. 

[10] 


A DREAM THAT LIVES 


“ It is growing rougher,” said Colonel Oran- 
off at last, rising to tighten an incandescent 
globe on his table. I wondered that he could 
so quickly come back to the present. 

“ Then if you fail,” I ventured, my thoughts 
still running fast to the end of the chapter, 
“ little is lost, since the conquest of Quelparte 
is only to be a temporary triumph.” 

“ Fail ! ” he repeated in a gentle tone. “ Those 
Razors are not sharpened on failures,” and 
Oranoff looked at me smiling. He had the 
patience of a true teacher ! 

A little nettled at myself, I lay gazing upon 
that blood-red map, and soon the color made 
me think of war, and I found myself talking 
again to that silent man. 

“ You cannot fear a war with Japan, Colonel 
Oranoff ? ” 

“ Peace is surer,” he answered quietly. Then 
looking at the map he continued : “ We have 
gained much more by peace than by war — 
more than Caesar or Alexander or Napoleon 
ever gained in war,” and the tired voice seemed 
to strengthen on the boast. 

“ ‘ Peace hath its victories,’ ” I quoted with 
solemn triteness. 


[ii] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ But they cost too,” interrupted Oranoff, 
“cost more than those of war; our wars cost 
the Czar the lives of thousands of his lowliest 
— peace the lives of hundreds of his best; war 
takes muscle — peace, brains. Does the Czar 
gain or lose ? ” 

“ He gains the Dream,” I suggested, and the 
tired man sighed “ Amen.” 

The night’s conference ended with the story 
of Menin. I had risen to take my leave when 
Oranoff drew me to the table and displayed a 
photograph of himself he had taken thought- 
fully from the recesses of a cabinet drawer. 

“You spoke of failure,” he said, and then 
tossed this picture angrily on the table. 

“ A good likeness,” I observed ; the poise of 
body and head, the coat and hat, the black im- 
perial, were all lifelike. 

An oath burst from the white lips. Startled, 
I looked more intently, and Oranoff’s pencil 
pointed to the shoulders; I saw that one was 
lower than the other. 

“ The hell-hound can’t help that,” he whis- 
pered fiercely. 

“ Then it is an impostor ? ” I cried. 

[12] 


A DREAM THAT LIVES 


“ My only failure,” said Oranoff, slowly, “ was 
due to this dare-devil’s cunning. I happened 
to cross his plans once in Bangkok and he played 
hell with me in Herat. Look at him sharply, 
Martyn, and swear you will know me when I 
carry my shoulders like that.” 

“ You fear him still ? ” 

“ Aye — and you would, too, could you know 
him.” 

I looked intently at the picture as Oranoff 
held it out to me as he might have held out 
to a bloodhound the garments of an escaped 
prisoner before starting it on the trail. Presently 
I affirmed that I could know those shoulders 
anywhere, and understood well enough that I 
was to be, for the present, at least, the body- 
guard of Colonel Ivan Oranoff. The contest 
for Quelparte, after all, might be, perhaps, a 
thing for this Menin and me to fight out! 

“ At least I shall be kept near Colonel Oranoff, 
and that means near Dulcine,” I thought with 
a pleasure not in the least marred by my 
knowledge that I was to guard a man engaged 
in a business not apt to make him loved — the 
reddening of Peter’s Map. 


[i3] 


CHAPTER THREE 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 

T WO weeks after I parted from the Oran- 
offs at Yokohama my little steamer 
brought me to Tsi, the seaport of Quelparte. 

I was rescued from the coolie-infested wharves 
by a gruff old Captain Dejneff, who came down 
from the capital with Miss Oranoff to meet 
me. Soon we were off for Keinning, twenty 
miles inland. 

A clear, sweet day of the matchless month 
of November lay upon the Land of Morning 
Calm. Such is the native name, preserved by 
courtesy, of a land which has known only 
centuries of oppression by China or Japan since 
long before the birth of the Christ. But the 
mornings have remained true to the name — 
in inverse ratio to history’s defiance of it. The 
battle-ground of the nations^ each side of it, 
the wanton spoil of conquerors from all sides, 
Quelparte has been the “ dark and bloody 
[i4] 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 


ground ” of Asia, and nowhere has the fate and 
doom of a nation so plainly affected its people. 
The Quelpartiens, great, stalwart men, each a 
king in stature and mien, are weak, resistless, 
hopeless ; yet, withal, a soberly happy race 
which loves the helpless land as though pitying 
it for having no stauncher friends. 

Dulcine was jubilant with the enthusiasm 
of a new-comer to these old plains and hills. 
The strange, white dress of the natives, the 
multicolored clothing of the children, the long, 
tender vistas across the paddy-fields, the dim 
blue of the distant mountains, appealed with 
freshening charm to her happy eyes. The 
contrasts, which in Quelparte must attract all 
visitors, fascinated her. 

“ They do everything backward here,” she 
was already laughing out to me; “the boys 
braid their hair down their backs and the men 
do it up on their heads ; the fires are built 
under the floors and the chimneys open into 
the gutters ; is that a new adaptation of your 
Russian stoves, Captain Dejneff?” 

This gruff old officer, whose face was buried 
under a great sandy beard, took not unkindly 
to Miss Oranoff’s running fire of bantering 
[ 15 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

quips. Yet my little experience among men 
made me look twice at him ; he had an odd 
predilection for humming old songs, and he 
looked at the plains as though they had told 
him some of their strange secrets. Dejneff 
had been connected with the Russian Legation 
here for many years ; he was somewhat forget- 
ting the outside world — being slowly em- 
balmed alive in the traditions and superstitions 
of this strange land. 

This Dulcine was discovering, without com- 
prehending its real intent. 

“ See,” she cried to me, as we were passing a 
little cluster of straw-thatched huts in a se- 
questered vale, “ the only children in the world 
who do not play on a doorstep ! ” 

We had suddenly flushed a covey of little 
people, who ran helter-skelter into the nearest 
huts and peered out at us from the dark 
interiors. 

“ Do you also fear the Devil-of-the-Thresh- 
old, Captain Dejneff?” 

The low-hummed song was choked as the 
great square shoulders came up in a shrug. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” he replied, “ why not ? 
If there is one — peste ! — it ’s better to look 

[16] 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 


out, I think. Did not the Romans carry brides 
over them ? ” A people of ten millions and not 
one who dares to stand or sit on the threshold 
for fear of the Devil there ! As I recalled the 
superstition in the light of DejnefFs attitude 
I thought of the draughts in a doorway. Were 
they the Devil ? 

A flock of wild geese flew suddenly up from 
a paddy-field and went waywardly circling in 
the thin blue air toward the distant mountains. 

“ There goes my Widowed Wild Goose, Cap- 
tain Dejneff,” cried Dulcine; “give me the 
melody, and Lieutenant Martyn shall see I have 
not wasted my time in Keinning.” 

The old man hummed a little louder, but, 
as Dulcine caught the measure he stopped 
quickly and listened to the girl’s clear notes in 
the Quelpartien Love-song: 


“ ‘ Silvery moon and frosty air, 

Eve and dawn are meeting ; 
Widowed wild goose flying there, 
Hear my words of greeting ! 

“ ‘ On your journey should you see 
Him I love so broken-hearted, 
Kindly say this word for me, 

That ’t is death when we are parted. 

[ 1 7 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ ‘ Flapping off, the wild goose clambers, 

Says she will if she remembers. 

« 1 Farewell ’s a fire that burns one’s heart, 

And tears are rains that quench in part, 

But then the winds blow in one’s sighs, 

And cause the flames again to rise. 

“ ‘ My soul I ’ve mixed up with the wine, 

And now my love is drinking — 

Into his orifices nine 

Deep down its spirit ’s sinking. 

“ ‘ To keep him true to me and mine, 

A potent mixture is the wine ! 

“ ‘Fill the ink-stone, bring the water, 

To my love I ’ll write a letter ; 

Ink and paper soon will see 
The one that ’s all the world to me. 

“ ‘ While the pen and I together, 

Left behind, condole each other. ’ ” 


The sky and plains made a perfect setting 
for the song, so sad and yet throbbing with 
human experience. 

One must be impressed with the weird 
songs of the East, bearing so lightly and 
everlastingly their heavy loads of care. But 
does this burden differ from the burden of 
our own popular music ? I recalled the street 

[18] 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 


songs of America prevalent at the time. What 
a load of sorrow, regret, hopeless contrition, 
this mongrel music voices! Are the world’s 
songs all sad, and are our Christian hymns of 
hope and trust and faith our only happy music ? 

Old Dejneff was interesting Dulcine in the 
women of this poor land, some of whom we 
met — veiled, unveiled, smiling in the chairs in 
which they were carried by hurrying coolies, 
or weeping under weary loads. 

Up to the age of ten or twelve the little 
Quelpartienne of good family enjoys great 
freedom, and can play in the yard with her 
brothers and see whom she wishes, but the 
time comes when she must never be seen with- 
out the chang-ot, or sleeved apron over her 
head and held close about the face. From that 
time she remains mostly within doors and can 
be familiarly seen only by the people of the 
household and the nearer relatives. This stage 
of her life is short, for she generally marries 
young and goes to take her place in the family 
of her husband, who will be found living with 
his parents. From that time on she can be 
seen and conversed with face to face only by 
her husband, father, father-in-law, uncle, cousin, 
[ i9] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

second cousin, etc., down to what the Quelpar- 
tiens call the “eighth joint,” which means the 
relationship existing between two great-great- 
grandsons of a man through different branches. 
This means something like fourth or fifth 
cousin in America. It will at once appear that 
a Quelpartienne is not entirely cut off from 
social intercourse with men, for in a country 
where families are so large as in Quelparte 
the men on both sides of a family within the 
limits prescribed may number anywhere from 
twenty to a couple of hundreds. Of course, 
grandfathers and great-grandfathers and great- 
uncles are also among the favored ones, al- 
though their number is naturally limited. But 
as a rule none of these male relatives will enter 
the inner part of a house, or woman’s quarters, 
except on the invitation of the husband, and 
generally in his presence. 

To all this, and much more, Dulcine listened 
with rapt interest, though interrupting her 
grave companion often with merry peals of 
laughter. What particularly interested me was 
the amused interest this Dejneff took in the 
strange customs of the people, while at the 
same time he turned out to be signally super- 
[20] 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 


stitious regarding their superstitions. Other 
things being equal (if they ever are), a super- 
stition is a thing one man believes that another 
does not. Yet there was a philosophy in 
Dejneff’s orientalism that impressed me. He 
sought deeply for reasons in all their fanati- 
cisms. For instance, as he and I were discuss- 
ing the Japan- China war, over our lunch at a 
little Japanese inn at Oricle, Dulcine swamped 
our sober efforts at the mention of the battle 
of Ping-yang. 

“ The city of Ping-yang, Robert, is said to 
be situated in a boat, and no inhabitant dares 
to dig a well within the city wall for fear of 
scuttling the boat ! ” 

We looked to Dejneff, who said thoughtfully, 
“ And they bring water half a mile, I do 
think.” 

“ Cursing the boat all the way, no doubt,” I 
commented. 

“ You believe the legend, of course, Captain 
Dejneff ? ” The square shoulders came up, 
and the growl was deeper in meaning, even, 
than in tone : 

“ It ’s not the only vile city on a boat 
named Cholera and they are scuttled by the 
[21] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

thousands who do not drink water brought 
from without.” 

And was this reckless philosophy? In civ- 
ilized communities are we not coming to know 
that our great cities are on boats, and are not 
millions lost each twelvemonth who do not 
drink water brought from afar? 

But it was at the House of the Tiger-Woman 
that Dulcine lost all hope of shaking old 
Dejneff’s sober conceptions of these foolish 
myths. This was once a little hut beside the 
worn path to Keinning, now it is only a great 
heap of stones. 

It is a Quelpartien belief that if an animal 
drinks water which has stood for twenty years 
in a human skull it will change into a human 
being. The story goes that a youth once loved 
a maid whose parents dwelt in this buried hut. 
But while betrothed to her, which means more 
in some countries than in others, he became 
enamoured of another maiden in Keinning and 
a wedding day with her was set. With brazen 
face the youth came one day to give Erlane a 
last traitor’s kiss. Her parents were overjoyed 
at the return of the forgetful lover, but the 
girl sat trembling on her mat — for a crane by 
[ 22 ] 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 


the river had told her all. When the lad took 
Erlane in his arms, her hands held him tight 
and still more tightly, her sweet form changed 
contour beneath his caresses, her clothing fell 
from her, while to cover her blushes a tawny, 
mottled fur closed over her face — and a tigress 
sucked the faithless lover’s life-blood and left 
him dead. 

We went on in silence (after each of the 
coolies had cast his stone upon the growing 
monument), the shock of superstition heavy on 
us all. The coolies had uttered fierce words 
as they hurled their stones, and this brought 
out Dulcine’s next question, though she was 
silent for a long space and mocked old Dejneff 
no longer: 

“ What do the coolies cry when they throw 
their stones, Captain ? ” 

“ When the women throw they cry, ‘ A tiger 
for each traitor ’ ; the men, ‘ A tiger for each 
broken vow.’ Does that superstition work good 
or ill, think you ? ” 

Nearer and nearer drew the ragged peaks 
of the mountains which lie about Keinning. 
Our day bade fair to end a little soberly, and 
I wondered if it was not all a stern lesson 

[23] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Dejneff had been sent to teach me early, — a 
lesson he seemed to have learned well in all 
these years. My thoughts ran on to the game 
that was playing between those mountain 
crests. Was the King of Quelparte being 
shaved easily ? Or was his beard of tougher 
fiber than had been anticipated ? Whatever 
the beard, I knew the “ Razor ” was keen ! 

Yet old Dejneff took occasion to strengthen 
his gloomy triumph over our incredulity. A 
great hillside on the outskirts of the city was 
covered with little mounds of earth. The sen- 
tinels stationed there were paid by the relatives 
of the dead; for, Dejneff told me, it was a 
myth of Quelparte that if a grave was harmed 
all relatives of the desecrated corpse became 
insane. “ Rifling graves becomes a new way 
to pay off old scores,” he said at the close, 
suggestively. 

“ But does the legend come true ? ” I asked. 

“ Often,” he answered quickly ; “ when the 
sacrilege becomes known they think they are 
going crazy, so they go ; and it ’s all the same 
to me what makes them, I think.” 

I know of no city, which the average globe- 
trotter visits, more alive with the tales of dead 

[24] 


A LESSON EARLY LEARNED 


centuries than this gray old Keinning, which 
most ignore. As we went swaying through 
the great gate of the wall the grinning clay 
monkeys on the roof, placed there to keep the 
devils out, made no cry. 

DejnefFs chair was near mine as we went 
through. 

“ Dejneff, ” I asked quietly, that Dulcine 
might not hear, “ do you who live here really 
believe the wild legends of this land ? ” 

The low, weird monotone he was humming 
ceased and he turned stolidly upon me : 

“ No, Martyn, we don’t ; but you follow our 
line and you won’t get off far: we act as though 
we didr 


l 


[25I 


CHAPTER FOUR 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 
HE first impression of the capital of 



A Quelparte will be the most lasting im- 
pression, however long may be the stranger’s 
stay. He may learn the great wide avenues, 
the little twisting streets, the palaces old and 
new, the great gates of the city wall, and even 
the mountains round about — but to the city 
he will be a stranger still. The spirit of that 
valley, caught up slowly in centuries of time, 
is never really felt by the temporary sojourner ; 
at least, after a busy month with Oranoff here 
I felt when I gazed out from the plaza of the 
Russian Legation over that sea of roofs that 
I was no less a perfect stranger than when I 
first saw Keinning. It was nothing that Dul- 
cine Oranoff and I had followed that great city 
wall ten miles in circumference, or that from 
the highest peaks of the “ Silk-Worm’s Head ” 
we had looked for hours upon this old relic 


[26] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


of other centuries. Our happy companionship 
was real — aye, fast deepening; the mellow 
autumn lights aslant the blue mountain sides 
were real — these intangible things could be 
seen and felt : but old Keinning lay deep in a 
revery, not a syllable of which could be caught 
and held. Its white people were ghosts, and 
all their beliefs and traditions were ghoulish 
mysteries. 

Such was the general setting of the Piece ! 
As for its development, even the sober Oranoff 
seemed satisfied ; each act, carefully planned, 
went through perfectly. The King, after the 
Japan-China war and the murder of his Queen 
by Chinese renegades, had fled to the Russian 
Legation ; here well “ in hand,” he had been 
played clean to the hilt. Old Andorph had 
secured practical possession of the mint and 
customs, and Dejneff had come quickly into 
the good graces of Quelpartien army officers. 
Scarcely a night but a banquet of one kind or 
another was served in the great dining-room of 
the Legation. The boxes of roubles, brought 
merrily up from Tsi by troops of thundering 
Cossacks, often needed replenishment, but 
never was the need unsatisfied. 

[ 27 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I attended Oranoff continually at first, but 
as he found it less and less necessary to move 
about, I was often detailed under Dejneff, who 
was “ straightening out ” the army ; between 
us we were whipping into line a regiment or 
two that could at least march. More than that 
could not have been expected of us. The 
wonder was that we were so far successful, and 
when we drilled in the avenues near the palace, 
the admiration of the thousands who gathered 
was Dejneff s solace. It was plain his ambition 
was not to have an effective army, but, if 
possible, to awe the populace. After the last 
review the old intriguer’s beard was full of soft 
songs. I had conducted the manoeuvres while 
he with his interpreter mingled with the crowds. 
He heard what was said ! 

“We have them,” he laughed softly, as we 
rode back to the Legation. “ Martyn, tell 
Oranoff to-night that we shall be ready in a 
week.” 

I wondered what he would be ready for; 
and if I was silent that evening in the salon 
with the ladies it was because I felt we were 
swiftly approaching the climax of the drama. 
Of this I had been assured by Colonel Oranoff 
[28] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


himself, for, the “ silent conquest ” going 
smoothly, little now was left but to have the 
Russian protectorate openly declared to Quel- 
parte and to the world. To guard against an 
uprising of the populace it had been decided 
to postpone the announcement until a favorable 
opportunity occurred in the shape of a public 
holiday or celebration. Toward this OranofFs 
plans were heading with success, and the fu- 
neral of the murdered Queen, long postponed, 
was proposed even by the King himself. 
The pageant, as planned, would occupy several 
days while the nation took a holiday. With 
minds set upon this, there was little or no 
danger of an emeute on the part of the 
Quelpartiens. 

The talk in the salon had centered about 
this pageant, and the ladies were particularly 
interested in learning of the preparations made 
by the native government, for royal funerals 
in Quelparte are well known to be the high- 
water mark of heathen mummery and oriental 
extravagance. Everything was spoken of save 
the one incidental feature of the orgy, — the 
Queen’s Sarcophagus and her remains. With 
a strange fatalism my mind continually reverted 

[29] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

to this very center of the proposed celebration 
which was so skilfully evaded by every one. 

But even as I pondered these things I re- 
ceived a summons to Oranoff’s office in the 
King’s wing of the Legation. Were my ques- 
tions to be answered so soon ? 

About the room were seated those whom 
by dress I took to be noblemen of Quelparte. 
They arose when I entered, impressed no doubt 
by the sumptuous military dress in which Cap- 
tain Dejneff compelled me to appear at the 
Legation and barracks. No sooner were all 
seated than I perceived the company awaited 
some one. All were silent, and sat facing a 
sofa covered with tigers’ skins which had been 
drawn into the center of the apartment. After 
a few moments a secret panel moved and a 
stately figure, in spotless Quelpartien robes, 
stood in the doorway. I sank to my knees 
saluting, with the others. 

It was Whang-Su, the King of Quelparte. 

His Majesty broke the spell of royalty for 
me by sauntering into the room, nodding to 
one and another of his cabinet, touching a 
hand here and calling a name there, and then 
by dropping on the sofa and lighting an 
[ 30 ] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


Egyptian cigarette which he drew from a 
silver case. 

He had just broken his fast — for, since the 
murder of the Queen, the King of Quelparte 
slept when the world was awake, and met his 
cabinet and issued his heathen decrees when 
the rest of the world was asleep. 

Colonel Oranoff at once got to the center of 
matters. 

“Your Majesty has consulted the sooth- 
sayers ? ” 

Whang-Su bowed, smiling blandly. 

“ And the Imperial Funeral will be decreed 
as we planned ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered the King of Quelparte, 
taking the cigarette from his lips, “on the 
night of the round moon, that is, if — ” and he 
glanced quickly to a nobleman near him, Prince 
Ting. 

The latter knelt, then rose, saluted, and spoke : 

“ Your Majesty has been correctly informed; 
the Mausoleum is quite completed.” But this 
did not answer the King’s question, and he 
instantly arose to his feet — 

“Yes, but the Queen’s body,” he cried, 
lowering his voice. 

[3i] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

All had arisen with the King. 

And now Colonel Oranoff spoke quickly to 
him in a low tone, and, satisfied, at length the 
King called Prince Ting to his side, to whom, 
in a low tone, he gave several orders in swift 
succession. 

“You will need me no more, gentlemen,” he 
then said, turning to depart. “Trust Prince 
Ting and have all in readiness on the night of 
the round moon. I go even now to invite the 
foreign representatives; you will do the rest.” 
Turning to go, he electrified me (the others 
seemed not to notice it) by turning to Oranoff 
and saying with a laugh : 

“ Yes ; you will do the rest! Ha, ha, ha ! ” 

All having withdrawn but Prince Ting, 
we three drew close together, Colonel Oranoff 
summoning me to a place beside them. 

From the conversation, I learned that the 
Queen’s body was being secretly kept in a 
Buddhist temple on Lynx Island in Wun 
Chow Bay, sixty miles westward from Tsi. 
The “ round moon ” (full moon) came on the 
nineteenth. This was the tenth. There were 
nine days, therefore, in which to bring the Im- 
perial Sarcophagus a distance of one hundred 
[ 32 ] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


and fifty miles by water and twenty by land to 
the Russian Legation in which we sat. 

Frequently, as we talked in low tones, 
Colonel Oranoff looked quietly at me, and I 
felt, long before Prince Ting left, that I was 
to be employed in this singular but vitally im- 
portant mission, and, as Oranoff returned from 
the door through which the Prince passed out, I 
could not resist the impulse to grasp his hand. 

The spontaneousness of the action pleased 
him, I think, though his face instantly sobered : 

“ But wait. This is a more difficult mission 
than you have thought. First, of all we are 
gaining in Quelparte in these days, nothing is 
to be kept permanently except this very Lynx 
Island. If Port Arthur cannot be retained for 
any reason, Wun Chow Bay is to be the ter- 
minus of the Siberian railway. Our agents on 
the yacht 4 Dulcette ’ are at work there now 
making private purchases which will enable us 
to control Lynx Island and its bay. Thus the 
effort to obtain the Sarcophagus must not be 
allowed to jeopardize these negotiations now 
pending.” 

When at last Colonel Oranoff, though by 
implication only, gave me an opportunity to 
3 [33 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

decline the service, I drew up quickly and 
saluted, for I would not have withdrawn for 
worlds, and I knew he knew it. 

“ A squad of Quelpartien cavalry with Colonel 
Yon Li and twenty Cossacks disguised in 
Quelpartien uniform will await you when you 
are ready to go,” said Colonel Oranofif, and, 
though he walked away to his table, I knew 
by the slight rising inflection of his words that 
he meant to ask me how soon that could be. 

“ I shall be ready to go, Colonel Oranoff,” 
said I, with as much candor, I hope, as earnest- 
ness (and I looked him honestly in the face as 
I said the words), “ when I shall have seen and 
said good-by to Dulcine.” 

He was sorting the papers on his table when 
I said these words, the meaning of which 
could not have been mistaken by any man. 
He paused as I uttered them, and pretended to 
examine more carefully a paper he had lifted 
from the table. But his eyes were looking 
over it and he was staring at the green table 
cover. He stood still a moment, then gather- 
ing his papers quickly (in very little order) into 
a secret drawer, he turned frankly upon me 
and held out his hand. 

[ 34 ] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


“ Be seated and I will call her. Colonel Li 
will await you on the Barrack’s Parade at day- 
light. Remember you can telegraph me from 
Han Chow.” 

I looked at my watch. It was two o’clock. 
Then Dulcine came smiling sleepily, but anx- 
ious and full of questions. We presumptuously 
drew the King’s tawny throne up to the fire 
and sat down. Colonel Oranoff entered a little 
room off from us which contained his private 
desk and sat down to a pile of papers which he 
stirred busily now and then. 

“ What is it, Robert ? ” Dulcine whispered, 
coming suddenly close to me. 

“ I am to go away.” 

“ Away ? ” she echoed ; there was something 
more than surprise in her tone. 

“ I am ordered with Colonel Li to Lynx 
Island to bring back the body of the mur- 
dered Queen.” 

Dulcine started at the words, and I felt 
surer than before that there was something 
about this miserable Queen that I did not 
know — and God knows I knew enough ! I 
kept silent, ready to seize upon the girl’s first 
words. 


[ 35 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ Why you rather than Dejneff ? ” she said, 
at last, after looking into the fire awhile. 

“ Oh, perhaps to remove an obnoxious quan- 
tity,” I answered with assumed lightness. 

“ Father does not send men on errands like 
this to rid himself of them.” I saw my chance. 

“ What do you mean by ‘ errands like this ’ ? ” 

It was a moment before the answer came, 
and then it came slowly as though with pain : 

“ Have you not heard the talk of Tuen ? ” 

I had not. I knew Prince Tuen of China 
had, through his agents, caused the murder of 
the Queen and that he longed for the downfall 
of Whang-Su, the King of Quelparte. More 
than this I knew little. 

“ It began with the King,” Dulcine at last 
replied; “he said Tuen was pawing Quelparte 
over for the dead Queen’s body.” 

What the devil the Chinese Prince wanted of 
the remains of the former Quelpartien Queen was 
more than I could guess. I kept a crowd of 
questions back, and at last Dulcine crept nearer 
me and I felt her tremble as she whispered : 

“You have forgotten Dejneff’s legend that 
insanity comes upon the relatives of the dead 
who are desecrated.” 


[ 36 ] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


“ Rot,” I burst out, angry with myself for the 
chill of fear that ran through me at the wild 
words. “No wonder Colonel Oranoff chose 
another man than old Dejneff. He knows too 
much and believes it all.” 

“ For to know is to fear,” whispered Dulcine; 
she did not tremble now. I knew she liked 
my uncompromising attitude (I had always 
laughed those legends to scorn out of princi- 
ple), though she did not possess the guile to 
counterfeit it as I did. 

I thought father would trust Dejneff any- 
where,” she said thoughtfully. 

“ He is more needed here than I, and your 
father happens to dare to trust me.” I did not 
know how the words would sound until I 
blurted them out. The girl’s hands went to 
her face, and the echo of my own words cut 
my heart right and left. 

“ Forgive me, Dulcine,” and I seized her 
bended shoulders in both arms ; “ you would 
not have me refuse, would you ? ” 

The wet face was slowly lifted to mine. 
“ You know I would not, Robert,” she said. 
And I drew her to me now in the silence which 
was broken only by the rustle in the little room 
[ 37 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

far beyond and the flutter of the dying fire 
which cast a red glow over our mottled throne. 

It was six o’clock when I again looked at my 
watch. We were just trotting out of the 
old West Gate of Keinning, for I had found 
Colonel Li and his escort forming in the Bar- 
rack’s Parade, the Cossacks looking rather dis- 
gusted in their outlandish oriental garb, though 
taking it all good-naturedly, like the soldiers 
they were. 

Once in the open country the Quelpartien 
cavalry scurried ahead, a motley crowd and ill- 
horsed. Behind them rode Colonel Yon Li. 
My Cossacks came after me, well-horsed, silent, 
and looking neither to the right nor the left. 
Beyond them, as I looked back, lay the old 
walls of Keinning ; before me, fifty miles as the 
crow flies across the mountains, the Buddhist 
monastery on Lynx Island, and its Imperial 
secret. 

Three miles from Keinning we passed the 
completed mausoleum where the Queen was 
soon to be buried. Colonel Li fell back and 
explained this to me. A mound of solid earth 
fifty feet high contained the great granite tomb 
above which was suspended a monstrous tablet. 

[ 38 ] 


THE SECRET OF LYNX ISLAND 


When the Sarcophagus was placed within the 
tomb, this tablet was to be dropped, and no 
human power could raise it again and disturb 
the royal remains. Colonel Li informed me 
that this was the second tablet imported ; the 
other had broken on the first trial drop. The 
present slab had stood one test, by being 
dropped upon a temporary foundation. A 
second test was to be made to-day. 

Indeed, we had not gone far when a strange 
noise came over the foot-hills with the wind. 
Colonel Li nodded to me, saying : 

“ The great tablet has stood the test.” 

The sound was as though a gigantic hammer 
had struck a mountain cliff, and it rang and 
rang in my ears unpleasantly. 


[ 39 ] 


CHAPTER FIVE 


THE ROAD TO WUN CHOW 

W E made forty miles over the rough 
mountainous road and rested our 
horses the night of the eleventh at the little 
village Tu Men in the mountains. The Quel- 
partiens lagged far behind, but got in before 
midnight. We knew that the remaining 
twenty odd miles of the journey would be more 
difficult than the forty we had covered, as the 
road would be constantly descending ragged 
mountain spurs. 

During the long hours in the saddle I had 
much time to think of the future, and I con- 
fess I never looked it more sternly in the face 
than during those hours. But the best-planned 
battle in history was lost by him who planned 
it, and won by those who had no plan. 

The fears of a possible encounter with the 
agents of the Chinese Tuen were of a nature 
to sober the most dauntless, and the more I 
[ 40 ] 


THE ROAD TO WUN CHOW 


pondered upon that phase of the situation, the 
more interested I became. The Queen of 
Quelparte had been murdered by Prince Tuen’s 
agents, on the well-founded suspicion that she 
was playing Quelparte into the hands of the 
Japanese, who, after the Japan-China war, came 
to have, as all the world knows, the upper hand 
in Quelpartien affairs. If, on mere suspicion 
of Japanese ascendency in Quelparte, Prince 
Tuen had caused the murder of the Queen, 
there could be little doubt that, upon learn- 
ing of Russian predominance, he would make 
a bolder stroke at Whang-Su and his dynasty. 

And if the secret of the temple on Lynx 
Island had been discovered, what could be 
easier than the seizure of the Sarcophagus to 
those who had run a hundred guards, entered a 
palace, and murdered a trebly-guarded Queen ? 

I could have endured with better relish the 
idea of a contest for the body of the Queen 
with Europeans. But Chinamen! I would 
rather fight Indians or Burmese, though they, 
too, like the Chinamen, have an absurd way of 
reasoning backward. Prejudice led me to feel 
that Chinamen would never choose the reason- 
able or expected alternative, or do the thing 
[4i ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

you were prepared to resist, but would event- 
ually win out against you by the use of unheard- 
of expedients, as inconsistent as illogical. 

When I try to recall those days I find I have 
only the dimmest recollections of Quelparte. 
Of this singular journey over those mountains I 
remember little more than my fears. But there 
were great brown hills which we climbed by 
a tortuous path after leaving gray Keinning. 
Further on we found ourselves in the foot-hills 
of the mountains, cut up by many a pleasant 
vale, but sombre and dreary because of the 
great rocks which arose on every hand. Here 
and there on the mountain-sides white-robed 
figures (for Quelpartiens dress all in white like 
Koreans) were raking dry grass or burrowing 
for roots to burn. Now and then we met a 
native boy with a string of little Korean ponies 
loaded with wood, which was worth its weight 
in copper cash in Keinning. At times we 
clattered through a little mountain valley where 
diminutive paddy-fields were covered with rip- 
pling water, which gurgled to the roadside on 
its way from one terrace to another, or we 
awoke the echoes of a secluded mountain vil- 
lage of straw-thatched mud-huts, from which 
[42] 


THE ROAD TO WUN CHOW 


uncouth heads were thrust with many queru- 
lous, guttural exclamations of surprise. Little 
boys and girls dressed in multicolored coats 
peculiar to the youths in Quelparte, as in 
Korea, scurried away as fast as they could in 
their ungainly wooden shoes. Sometimes, if 
we came with great suddenness upon a sleeping 
hamlet, an odd collection of little wooden and 
hobnailed shoes lay in and along the road 
indicating a flight quite as unceremonious as 
our arrival. 

In more than one village the national game 
of kite-fighting was being played, the total 
population, with faces upturned, watching the 
battle. The two contestants, crossing their 
strings, sawed back and forth until one of the 
strings broke, whereupon victory was claimed 
by him whose string had longest stood the test, 
and the laughter of the crowd was the unhappy 
portion of the vanquished. Colonel Li in- 
formed me that in a village through which we 
passed there once arose the greatest kite-fighter 
in Quelparte, a reputation gained by a series of 
victories won in every province in the kingdom. 
Finally the secret of his success was unhappily 
discovered. A paste of meal and pounded 
[ 43 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

glass was made to coat his kite-string ! And 
the victor, whose praises had been sung so 
loudly, was stoned to death by the infuriated 
inhabitants of the city where the trickery had 
been exposed. 

But these visions of villages and villagers 
came and went before my eyes as though I 
were in a dream, and from each succeeding 
height I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse 
of the sea and the temple roofs on Lynx 
Island. 

Beneath a stolid, commonplace, oriental ap- 
pearance, I found Colonel Li to be an interest- 
ing, even a remarkable, man. I came to know 
him but slowly, and found, to my amazement, 
that he had traveled much, and that he could 
talk intelligently of Chicago and Washington, 
of London and Paris. All this drew me to 
him at first, though I came to fear him as I 
hope I shall never have cause to fear another 
man. 

Touching the business before us, Colonel Li 
was to the point. He bore the Imperial order 
for the Sarcophagus of the Queen. He had 
assisted in bringing it to this lonely island 
toward which we were hastening. 

[ 44 ] 


THE ROAD TO WUN CHOW 


But while we spoke of the work before us, I 
could not refer to that which was uppermost in 
my mind, — Tuen. I did, however, make up 
my mind to sound the man cautiously as to any 
positive difficulty in our way. This side of 
our task had not been altogether overlooked, 
but when Colonel Li referred to it, incidentally, 
I could not determine whether he was keeping 
up courage by inward denials, or was actually 
in ignorance of the suspected designs of Prince 
Tuen. To enlighten myself further on this 
all-important point, I diplomatically directed 
our conversation. Turning the talk again to 
the Colonel’s experiences on the Western conti- 
nent, I inquired : 

“ But, Colonel, you seem greatly to have 
appreciated your visit to America and Europe. 
Did the wish never come to you to remain and 
become a citizen with us? I should think 
Quelparte would seem tame to one who had 
been once lost in the roar of our great cities, 
and who enjoyed the novelties and attractions 
of the new world as keenly as you.” 

We were just topping a commanding spur. 
Far up on the face of a cliff, from which an 
eagle’s scream came rasping down, a dark hole 
[ 45 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

showed the mouth of a Buddhist monastery in 
the solid rock. A tinkling bell, swayed by the 
winds, and the dull throb of a cymbal could be 
heard above the eagle’s scream, and a thin puff 
of smoke showed where some suffering devotee 
had just burned a paper prayer. In a notch in 
the road far above us a pony boy was singing, 
and the smell of burning leaves in some hid- 
den hut came to us on the wind. Colonel Li 
pulled up his horse quickly at my words, and 
took in all this with a significant sweep of 
his arm : 

“ Look, listen, breathe ! What is the tur- 
moil and foolish fury of your new world to 
me compared with these ? As water in the 
teapot to the thirsty drunkard ! ” 

And I could only hum to myself the British 
soldiers’ song : 

“ If you’ve ’eard the East a-callin’, 

Why, you won’t ’eed nothin’ else. 

No ! you won’t ’eed nothin’ else 

But them spicy garlic smells 

An’ the sunshine an’ the palm-trees an* 

The tinkly temple bells ! ” 

“ But, Colonel,” I pressed on, for I had my 
point to make, “ life here seems to have so 
[ 46 ] 


THE ROAD TO WUN CHOW 


little to offer. For all your service and devo- 
tion to your King what worthy reward have 
you ? Custom inexorably compels you, if you 
gain high office, to support all your relatives. 
So there is little or no financial gain ; and you 
must make enemies, who, because of your tri- 
umphs, will be more delighted when you fall.” 

“True,” he said; “but does the thought of 
failure keep your politicians from entering the 
contest? Triumph is not less sweet in Quel- 
parte than in America. And if you are with 
the King your triumph is as lasting as the 
dynasty, by the King’s favor.” 

“But what of the dynasty?” I hurried on, 
heedlessly now, for my chance had come. 
“Who can say how long it will last? Sur- 
rounding nations are rivals in the fight for the 
land, and all the while the devil Tuen is plot- 
ting to overthrow Whang-Su and to wreck his 
throne.” 

I held my breath when I said the words. 
The man was riding at my horse’s flanks and I 
could not see him. I dared not look back. 

“Prince Tuen!” he muttered hoarsely. 
That was all he said, but the tone made me 
shudder. 


[47.1 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“So the Chinese Prince is Yon Li’s enemy, 
too,” I mused, as we went forward in silence. 
But now I did not know whether Li was think- 
ing of him in connection with our present 
business. I resolved not to give up, however, 
and was about to renew the subject, when the 
Colonel abruptly left me and dropped back to 
the Quelpartiens, who were lagging behind as 
usual. In less than half an hour a cry came 
from them, and as I trotted back I saw that a 
trooper had fallen from his horse and lay in- 
sensible on the stony road. As I came up. 
Colonel Li detailed two men to stay with the 
injured man, and we pressed on. Then I saw, 
for the first time, that Li’s face was that of a 
dead man’s. I started at the sight of it. My 
spurs pierced my horse, and I was carried for- 
ward to my Cossacks at a rattling pace. 

So I was not the only one who was dread- 
ing Prince Tuen’s emissaries at Lynx Island ! 
And that was what I wanted to know. 

I rode on with the Cossacks for a number of 
miles. From one of them with whom I could 
converse I found that they were in bad humor 
over our business. Moreover, they had be- 
come suspicious of the Quelpartiens, who, I 
[ 48 ] 


THE ROAD TO WUN CHOW 


was told, were armed as no native cavalry had 
ever before been armed — even to dirks con- 
cealed in their jackets. This gossip I listened 
to, but minded not, for soldiers are men bred 
to idle talk. But as the day wore on, their 
words kept ringing in my ears. Colonel Li 
kept closely with his men, and I with mine. 

Thus, slowly, a terrible suspicion dawned on 
my brain. I was a loyal servant of the King, 
— I and mine. What of him and his ? Had 
Chinese gold been of no avail with him? Was 
I going to Lynx Island with a wily tool of the 
Chinese werewolf? Was I the dupe of Colonel 
Yon Li and virtually in the hands of the 
King’s enemy already ? 

I cannot tell how disconcerted these awful 
suspicions, bred by my Cossacks’ idle talk, 
made me, and at the first thought of failure I 
became sick at heart. The capture of the 
Imperial Sarcophagus would, I knew well, 
make no earthly difference with the length 
of the dynasty, but I was not so sure that 
the knowledge of such a capture would not 
stagger the King’s brain and that of every 
“ relative,” and so, in reality, fulfil the direful 
prophecy. 

4 


[ 49 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

My Cossacks were riding their horses at 
natural gaits, some near, some far in advance. 
Suddenly one of them returned up the steep 
path, his horse wet with lather. Reaching me, 
he saluted, and said in French : 

“ Three of the Quelpartien cavalry have 
circled us and are riding hard and far in 
advance.” 

I remembered instantly the rider who had 
fallen and the two companions left with him ; 
also, that the accident happened after I had 
spoken as I did of Prince Tuen to Colonel Li. 

It may seem, as I tell it, that this was all 
that I needed to assure me that my fears were 
not groundless. But I could not distrust 
Colonel Li without reflecting seriously on 
Colonel Oranoff, and that I was in no mind to 
do. However, it was only that which kept me 
from stopping in the first rocky pass, calling my 
Cossacks about me, and making a prisoner of 
my guide and senior officer. 

As it was, I felt for my weapons, put on a 
cheerful face, and rode at the head of my men 
into the village of Wun Chow. 


CHAPTER SIX 


THE TEMPLE OF CHING-LING 

W UN CHOW BAY is a basin measuring 
about two miles both in width and length. 
On three sides it is bounded by the mainland, 
which ends in a promontory of jutting rock. 
On the fourth or south side a mountain of an 
island rises three hundred feet from the sea. 
The harbor entrance is a narrow inlet between 
the promontory of the mainland and the eastern 
extremity of Lynx Island. Several picturesque 
rocky figures stand out of the water in the 
inlet as if to mark the mainland’s ancient 
boundary line, — the sentinels of Lynx Island, 
a nightmare to captains inward bound. On 
the western shore of the bay was the small 
native village, and around the western end of 
Lynx Island, on the little neck of water di- 
viding it from the mainland, was a Japanese 
village ; for this was an open port and a regu- 
lar landing-place for Japanese steamers plying 
between Nagasaki and northern Chinese ports. 
[Si] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

One of these steamers was lying at anchor 
in the harbor of Wun Chow, surrounded by 
sampans. Another was just clearing the har- 
bor as we entered the village, the black trail 
of its smoke lying along the horizon, making 
the sentinels of Lynx Island look like diminu- 
tive smoking volcanoes. 

But my eyes passed quickly from the mer- 
chantmen and rested long on a little white 
speck on the blue waters, — the yacht “ Dul- 
cette,” of the Russian man-of-war “ Ulric,” which 
was stationed at Tsi. The little craft lay float- 
ing near the precipitous side of Lynx Island, 
evidently as near shore as possible, and I con- 
fess my spirits rose as I watched it rise on the 
swell of the sea. Then my eyes ran from it to 
the shore, a distance of two hundred feet — how 
could we bridge that leap ? 

From the shore I looked up the steep side 
of the mountain, and my heart sank within me, 
for it seemed a well-nigh impassable course 
down which to bring a burden in the dark of 
night. The mountain-side was serrated with 
great ribs of rock extending from end to end. 
Here and there the dark ravines seemed, from 
my standpoint on the beach at the village, 
[ 52 ] 


THE TEMPLE OF CHING-LING 


more impassable, even, than the rugged face 
of the mountain-side. Our burden, I doubted 
not, would weigh no less than six or eight 
hundred pounds and I knew that the Temple 
of Ching-ling (so it was called locally) was on 
the summit of the island, though I could see 
no trace of it. 

Two courses were open to us: a difficult (if 
not impossible) climb down the side of the 
mountain, or a long roundabout trip along the 
summit, down the descending western slope to 
the Japanese village, then through Wun Chow 
to the shore of the bay. Secrecy would de- 
mand that the former course be adopted if it 
was within the range of possibility. 

As I have said, I was unable to bring myself 
to act on my suspicions of Colonel Yon Li. 
I have stated them in the order in which they 
arose, to show what must have been my per- 
turbed mental condition when I arrived on the 
ground. In proper order it will be seen whether 
or not I acted rightly. 

Once in Wun Chow, Colonel Li advised me 
to take my Cossacks to the Japanese village, 
where we could find more comfortable accom- 
modations at Japanese inns, while he and his 
[ 53 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

men remained in Wun Chow. It is needless 
to say I went with great misgivings, for I had 
resolved not to let the man out of my sight, 
unless necessary to prevent raising his sus- 
picions of my doubt. But now, at the outset, 
I was compelled to choose between my fears 
and Colonel Li, and, brought to the point 
which I could not evade without discomfort 
and embarrassment, I assented without betray- 
ing a shadow of distrust. He promised to 
follow quickly after me and pilot me to the 
Temple on the island for a preliminary survey 
of the ground. 

In fact, I had not finished my late tiffin 
when he came clattering up with fresh horses, 
and we were off. Fording the narrow inlet 
which at low tide was not more than two feet 
deep, we gained the mountain and began as- 
cending the narrow, stony path. 

Once on Lynx Island, I felt a new interest 
in our mission. Added to this freshening zeal, 
Colonel Li was instantly full of much necessary 
information. The monastery of Ching-ling 
had been raised to first rank at the time of the 
Queen’s death. This exaltation in rank made 
necessary a number of alterations in the 
[ 54 ] 


THE TEMPLE OF CHING-LING 


Temple, a larger and more elaborate service, 
and a greater number of priests, the number 
of the latter being doubled from twenty-five to 
fifty. I commented, to myself, that the addi- 
tional force was undoubtedly a soldierly set of 
men and well armed — for priests! Colonel 
Li further informed me that none of all this 
retinue knew the nature of the treasure they 
were guarding, save the three high-priests, but 
that all knew that when the monastery was 
made of first rank a precious gift was laid 
within the altar, appropriate to its exalted 
position, — as was true of all monasteries of 
primal rank in the kingdom. 

What masterly artifice, thought I, had been 
displayed in safely guarding the body of the 
Queen! Here, on this mountain island, a 
picked body of men under the cloak of religion 
lay guarding their King’s precious secret more 
safely than it could have been watched in the 
citadel of any fortress defended by an army. 
“The cowl is mightier than the sword,” they 
say in Quelparte. But cowl and sword were 
here. 

Our horses were climbing away vigorously, 
and soon we neared the summit of the hill 
[ 55 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

where a picturesque scene greeted our eyes. 
A great canyon split the summit of Lynx 
Island, and from one rocky side to the other 
a green vale extended, perhaps two hundred 
yards wide. A number of old trees stood 
upon the grassy plot, and in the distance ap- 
peared the temple roof, its gable ornamented 
with clay monkeys of life-size, which, the 
Quelpartiens believe, will preserve any building 
from evil spirits. As I saw their grotesque 
little figures silhouetted against the distant sea 
I wished for once to believe with old Dejneff 
in their power. As we pushed on more rapidly, 
a second building came into view, distant 
a hundred yards from the Temple. This, 
Colonel Li had forgotten to explain, was an 
auxiliary dormitory for the twenty-five addi- 
tional priests brought to the monastery when 
it was made of first rank. It was merely a 
long, straw-thatched native hut. As we drew 
near, what I had taken to be the wall of the 
Temple appeared to be an outside wall sur- 
rounding the Temple itself, — an unusual, but 
not unheard of, method for the protection of 
temples from vandals. 

I shall never forget my first ride into this 
[ 56 ] 


THE TEMPLE OF CHING-LING 

canyon of Lynx Island. My eyes saw every- 
thing, and my ears caught every sound. Eagles 
were circling over the cliffs above us. White- 
caps danced on the far-off sea, visible through 
the vista of the canyon. A gong was sounding 
somewhere, and thin metal fishes, suspended on 
the tongues of little brass bells, hanging on the 
Temple, floundered desperately in the wind, 
ringing their bells to keep off evil spirits. 

From his latticed window the gate-keeper saw 
us coming, and took Colonel Li’s package within. 
Soon a priest came hurrying to meet us. It 
was plain that we were expected, — but I did not 
think of this until afterward, — yet everything 
suggested it, from the clean-swept quadrangle 
to the spotless attire of the attendants. A gong 
sounded, and the priests came out from the Tem- 
ple chanting, some passing out of the gate to 
their auxiliary building, the remainder entering 
huts which were built against the inner side of 
the wall. Colonel Li informed me that the 
ceremony just concluded was the last, but one, 
to be held over the Queen’s remains, for on 
the following day, at this hour, the final ser- 
vice was to be performed according to the 
King’s orders just received. The high-priests, 
[ 57 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Colonel Li, and I now passed within the Tem- 
ple of Ching-ling. 

In the dim light, the candles on the altar 
were first visible, and incense filled the air. 
Between heavy curtains I could barely see the 
Image at the farther end of the room, within 
the inner court, where none but the high-priests 
might step; and to this spot my eyes went 
quickly and remained, for there, perhaps beneath 
those very candles, lay the embalmed body of 
the Queen! 

As I peered forward, the three men at my 
back spoke to each other swiftly and in low tones. 
Frequently I heard my name mentioned, but all 
the rest was meaningless, since they spoke the 
native language. I need not more than refer 
again to the lurking fears which beset me when- 
ever suspicions became uppermost in my mind. 
I remember thinking, as I stood there blinking 
into the darkness toward the dimly lighted 
shrine, that if Colonel Oranoff was betrayed, no 
man had ever been duped by more cunning 
tricksters ; and the highly comforting specula- 
tion followed, that if he had been betrayed, my 
life was not worth the vapor that rose from 
yonder burning candle. 

[ 58 ] 


THE TEMPLE OF CHING-LING 


Soon one of the men, who had been intro- 
duced to me as General Ling, familiarly put his 
hand on my arm and led me toward the inner 
court Turning from the Image upon which I 
was gazing with equal curiosity and expectancy, 
the man pulled away a thick mat from the floor 
and lifted a trap-door, and, unceremoniously 
grasping one of the sacred candles from the al- 
tar, he sat down on the edge of the black, square 
hole ; then getting a foothold on a ladder, he 
crawled awkwardly down. I followed. If I 
had known I was going to my grave, I could 
not have retreated. The ladder was some six 
feet in length and stood in a narrow hallway 
cut into the limestone rocks. Numerous dark 
passages went off in either direction into inky 
blackness. 

At the end of a long walk General Ling 
stopped and stamped upon the floor, then, lean- 
ing over, he scraped away loose dirt, and with 
much labor lifted another heavy slab trap-door. 
Again he went down, and again I followed him, 
on wide stone stairs, into a still lower apart- 
ment. The room was heavy with foul air, but 
another odor was unmistakably present, — a per- 
fume faintly floating in the air ! General Ling 
[ 59 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

paused on the lower step, and, turning to me, 
grasped my hand and looked me in the face 
while he raised the torch above his head. 

I peered into the scented room. A moving 
object first appeared. In a moment, as I looked, 
I beheld a face, and started, gasping. Then I 
saw it was a soldier, standing silently “ at atten- 
tion ” and looking at General Ling. 

We see some things first by averted vision. 
By such means there came slowly into my sight 
a long, glittering object, by the soldiers side. 
For a moment, while it grew larger and more 
distinct, my eyes were fixed upon the soldier’s 
stolid face. 

When at last I could look, I saw, resting on 
two great beams thrown across the little room, 
the golden Sarcophagus of the Queen of Quel- 
parte. 


[60] 


CHAPTER SEVEN 


A LAST SERVICE 

A S we ascended to the Temple General Ling 
explained the plan which had been 
formulated by the high-priests, subject to the 
approval of Colonel Li. The final service in 
the Temple had been set for two o’clock on the 
next day, as I have said, and in the meantime 
every preparation for the removal of the Sar- 
cophagus was to be made, — floors opened, doors 
widened, trusses built. After the service, and 
not until then, were the priests to be made 
aware of the presence of the Sarcophagus, and 
on their shoulders it was to be brought up into 
the Temple. Although Colonel Oranoff had in- 
formed me that a new Sarcophagus would await 
the body at the Russian Legation in Keinning, 
lest the one at Lynx Island be injured during 
the transfer, General Ling had already made a 
great wooden case in which to place it prepara- 
tory to its removal. The total burden would 
[61] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

be eight hundred pounds, which, he affirmed, 
could be borne down the face of the hill by the 
fifty priests, with the aid of blocks and tackling, 
without danger to the Sarcophagus, even if the 
outer case should be marred. 

In this, as in all else, General Ling seemed 
to be a most sensible and faithful servant of 
the King. We had reached the foot of the 
ladder which would take us again to the Temple 
shrine, when the man suddenly sank to the 
floor and he grasped my hand as I put one foot 
on the ladder. I turned, and, from being the 
cool, far-seeing, resolute man I had thought 
him, he seemed to become a child as he fairly 
sobbed to me: 

“ Sir, you cannot guess what terrible years 
these have been. Here, with only fifty men, 
I have been placed to watch ” — and he nodded 
toward the room from which we had come — 
“ that which is more precious to the King than 
life itself. You may or may not know why. 
The first year I could scarcely sleep, for when 
I did, a sound as of distant thunder came to my 
ears, and for days thereafter I could close my 
eyes no more.” Tears were running down the 
poor man’s pallid cheeks as he spoke. “ But 
[62] 


A LAST SERVICE 


finally I learned to sleep, sir, with both eyes 
open, sitting upright at my table, on which I 
balanced myself with my elbows. But why do 
I tell you this ? — that you may mention my 
faithfulness to the King. Of it he knows little 
more than my success. I would that he knew 
the fears I have undergone for his sake and the 
eternal vigilance with which his secret has been 
guarded. I have become an old man in these 
forty months and have little longer to live. I 
have a son, — Kim Ling, in the Quelparte 
army. Tell the King he will serve him faith- 
fully as I have, and even until death.” 

There was something besides the pathos of 
the man’s plea that touched me, the sense of 
the justice of the great reward which he seemed 
to feel was due his laborious service. And he 
asked it not for himself, but for an only son. 
I promised then and there to “ speak to the 
King,” though I used the words merely in the 
conventional sense. He was pleased, and we 
ascended into the lighter dimness of the Temple, 
but no one being in sight, as we entered the 
inner court, I paused, for I too had something 
to say : 

“ But during these years, General Ling, have 

[63] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

there not been many whom you have suspected 
of treachery?” 

“Yes, sir,” he answered as quickly and as 
frankly. “ I have suspected all — but myself.” 

“ Colonel Li? ” I suggested. 

“Yes, Colonel Li,” he responded; then he 
added after a pause and a shrewd turn of his 
head: “ But not so much as you.” 

“You may trust me,” I said, holding out my 
hand. He clasped it tightly, for on my honor 
and faithfulness hung the success or failure of 
all these long nights and days of watching, 
and he answered almost pitifully : 

“ There is nothing else to do.” 

As we entered the area without the Temple 
Colonel Li appeared with the horses, but I had 
other plans which I communicated to him, and 
he rode off alone. Calling General Ling, I 
asked him to pilot me down the mountain path. 

Passing outside the monastery walls, I was 
taken to a footpath which went down the rocky 
side of the canyon, doubling back on itself fre- 
quently to accomplish the feat. Once on the 
crest of the rocks the view was entrancing, for 
the sun was just setting in the mountains be- 
yond Wun Chow. The bay below, so perfect 
[64] 


A LAST SERVICE 


in outline and lovely in color, seemed a great 
opal in the quiet, dying light. From a certain 
craft just leaving the little pier at Wun Chow, 
a weird sound came. A stately figure in white 
was standing in the prow beating a flabby 
drum, behind which a dozen men pulled at 
their oars, driving the barge slowly across the 
bay. General Ling informed me that this cere- 
mony was performed at the beginning of each 
native month to keep the devils of the sea from 
entering the harbor. 

My eyes moved slowly from the white figure 
in the barge to the trim little craft riding at 
anchor near by, and I thought of its mission 
to Lynx Island. Neither the monotonous 
throb of the flabby drum nor the rocky sen- 
tinels of Lynx Island had kept it out. While 
looking for Devils, a Bear came in unnoticed ! 
I was surely becoming a philosopher of old 
Dejneff’s school! We pushed on downward, 
for the light was waning, General Ling slowly 
picking his way. At first I thought he was 
choosing it as he went, but before long I saw 
stakes had been driven in the ground by some 
one who had fully anticipated all that I had 
been dreading. Through rocky defiles, down 
5 [ 65 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

steps as high as those of the great pyramid, 
along little grassy ways at the very verge of a 
precipice, the stakes led us. In actually mak- 
ing the descent, one did not find it such a diffi- 
cult task. As we neared the bottom my guide 
signified the necessity of his returning before 
it became too dark, and we parted, after arrang- 
ing that I should be at the monastery at two 
o’clock the following afternoon. I found my 
way easily to the shore and was taken to the 
yacht in a sampan, where, I need hardly say, 
my letters made me a welcomed addition to a 
jovial party of men. Spirits here ran high, 
for the mission of the “ Dulcette ” had been 
consummated and the boat now only waited 
its “cargo” to be off for Tsi. 

Lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the 
waves, I made up for two sleepless nights and 
barely came from my bath as tiffin was served. 
I had little more than time to climb the steep 
path of the stakes when the last service over the 
body of the late Queen of Quelparte was begun. 

I should observe here that the “ Dulcette ” 
was brought fifty feet nearer shore on this morn- 
ing, and four sampans were lashed together and 
boarded over to convey our burden to the 
[ 66 ] 


A LAST SERVICE 


yacht. According to the King’s orders, General 
Ling had been commanded to fire the mon- 
astery immediately upon the removal of the 
Sarcophagus ; secrets of which I have only 
the merest suspicion undoubtedly connected 
with the anticipated Russian possession of the 
island, rendering this waste of property neces- 
sary. Accordingly, I had ordered my Cossacks 
to station themselves on the road to Keinning 
behind the village at sundown, ready to start 
for the capital the moment the light of the 
flames appeared on the summit of Lynx Island. 
By them I sent a message to Oranoff, stating 
the success of my mission and that of the 
“Dulcette.” 

As I entered the temple a hundred tapers 
sprang to light. The candles on the altar 
were at the same time increased, showing up 
the hideous figure of the Image unpleasantly. 
Some one was reading in a nasal tone from 
a Thibetan book, and during the reading the 
threescore priests entered the building, bearing 
swinging torches. Upon entering they knelt; 
then, with noiseless feet, they formed a pro- 
cession and marched slowly before the Image 
of Gautama. 


[ 67 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

If it should be my lot to witness many 
august ceremonies, I doubt if I could remem- 
ber another as I do the one of that memorable 
night on Lynx Island. There was something 
in it of the heathenism of ancestor-worshipping 
peoples, — something which suggested the re- 
ligious fervor of India, though blended with 
and discolored by the duller dross of Chinese 
superstition. Whatever it may have been, — 
I cannot describe it, — that march of those 
monks and their monotones will never be 
forgotten while life shall last. And whenever 
I listen to chanting, my ears seem to hear, 
above the song of the singers, the chant I 
heard that night: 


He knows he lies who dares to say 
That Karma cannot be ; 

For the body of Dharma, pure and white, 
Ever lives in the liquid light, 

Though his form we may not see. 

In a thousand rivers there water is, 

In a thousand rivers a moon, 

In a thousand leagues no cloud is seen 
Where the heavens lie like an endless dream 
To temple our wind-swept tomb. 

On Griddore Peak where vultures fly 
And lustrous flowers are found, 

[ 68 ] 


A LAST SERVICE 


Full many an occult thing may be — 

If the wood comes not can the tortoise see 
Till a thousand years roll round ? 


When half the procession had passed the 
altar the priests faced it, and, prostrating them- 
selves, chanted : 

O Honorable One by the Altar, 

O source of the pure, endless springs, 

F avor our frail lips that falter, 

Grant us the three blessed things : 

The Buddha, 

The Dharma, 

The Shanga, — 

The thrice-blest, the three Precious Things. 


Rising, they marched on, then, turning, 
retraced their steps before the Image, chanting 
wondrously : 

The three worlds swing in an endless arc, 

Rebirth, decay, and death ; 

An hundred thousand kalpas fly 
Like grains of dust across the sky, 

While Buddha breathes a breath. 

O clear, pure wind of unmeasured love, 

Oh, blow now straight, afar ! 

Had not your heart been proven sweet, 

Who would have dared its message keep, 

Pyel Ho of Kasyapa? 

[69] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Let the chant go forth to the Honorable One 
Who sits by the Altar on High, 

And strives to break the dark clouds of night 
That worlds may reflect his glorious light, 

And Karma be banished for aye. 


I sat, I know not how long, as one be- 
witched. The swinging torches, the monot- 
onous chanting, the perfumed incense, all 
combined to make me what I had never been 
before, — somewhat of an idolater myself. 

At last some one touched me and spoke. 
It was General Ling, and when he asked if I 
was ready, I looked out through a crack in a 
paper window and saw it was growing dark. 
Already my Cossacks were awaiting my signal 
of flames. Already the “ Dulcette ” had lifted 
anchor and was in full heat to be off. 

I tightened my belt, felt of my pistols, and 
answered him: “Yes.” 


[ 70 ] 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


THE CUE OF A QUEUE 

T HE darkness was not altogether due to 
coming night, for a storm was blowing 
in from the murky Yellow Sea, although the 
long service had lasted to near the day’s end, 
when General Ling came to me. 

For some reason I had felt in no hurry to 
begin the night’s work, for a strange quiet had 
come over me, intensified fourfold by the 
service to which I had altogether given myself 
up. After three days of intense mental and 
physical activity, I was enjoying a reaction 
and recuperation. Not that my fears were 
dead, or my anxieties forgotten, but from the 
moment I met General Ling I felt a new con- 
fidence in myself and in those about me. He 
had suffered suspicions for four mortal years, — 
suspicions of every one, including myself. Be- 
side him, and he a heathen and an idolater, 
I was a coward. His pitiful words respecting 
his trust in me — “ There is nothing else to do ” 
[7i] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

— rang in my ears. How nearly they coincided 
with my own reluctancy in trusting Colonel 
Li ! And I have ever remembered this valu- 
able lesson, — to trust those whom I must 
trust as I trust myself. 

Upon this motto I had acted since I awoke 
that morning on the“ Dulcette.” Ling and Li 
had done everything. The Sarcophagus was 
as good as on the “ Dulcette.” My Cossacks 
were no longer needed, and were spoiling to 
return to Keinning. Consequently I had writ- 
ten to Colonel Oranoff, and stationed them to 
await my flaming signal to be off. I was par- 
ticularly glad to be able to dispense with their 
presence, as the secret of Lynx Island was 
confined to so many less tongues — and sol- 
diers’ tongues are loose at both ends, as all 
the world knows. 

At the conclusion of the final ceremony the 
priests had been taken to an inner room, where 
Colonel Li imparted to them the nature of the 
King’s orders touching the immediate removal 
of the sacred treasure of the Temple and the 
utter destruction of the Temple itself. The 
astonishment of the priests can be imagined, 
but not the scene which followed. Old men, 
[ 72 ] 


THE CUE OF A QUEUE 

whose lives had been spent at Ching-ling, came 
out weeping and moaning, and here and there 
they leaned against the walls as if to embrace 
them for a last time. Some crowded about 
the Image on their knees and prayed with 
quaking voices ; others, most of them younger, 
began running about like frightened deer, 
while some fell into groups in the corners, 
whispering to each other in their haste. 

Evidently fearing that all control over his 
men might be lost, Colonel Li hastened to read 
yet another decree from the King, which de- 
tailed each priest to service in other temples, 
and gave to each a sum of money from the 
Royal Treasury. This had the desired effect 
over the younger and most restless of the men, 
who otherwise were quite beside themselves 
with disappointment, but many of the older 
men failed to be reconciled by pecuniary 
reward. Young men came to older ones, who, 
sobbing by the wall or praying by the Image, 
seemed to heed only the first decree. 

“ Have cheer, father,” said a son to an old 
man by the wall near me ; “ you and I are to 
go to Wun Lung, where King Chan-ning is 
buried. Have cheer.” 

[ 73 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ Be silent, son,” sharply cried the elder, 
turning his wet face upon the hopeful youth. 
“You remember the grave of Chan-ning, and 
forget that of your mother on Lynx Island. 
What if that is plundered and we become 
insane ? It would be a just reward.” 

The old man’s face went back again into his 
sleeve, and by the shaking of his shoulders 
I could see he was weeping anew. 

Some there were among the soldier-priests 
whom the second announcement did not quiet, 
the reason being, I supposed, that the destruc- 
tion of Ching-ling meant they were to go back 
into the dreary barracks. 

Orders were given for the priests to collect 
their personal effects immediately, and to be 
ready in an hour to assist in the work of re- 
moving the sacred treasure. This necessitated 
great tumult and confusion, particularly in the 
mud huts ; and, though it seemed to me hasty 
business to ask men to prepare within an hour 
to leave homes in which they had lived a life- 
time, yet the need of having the destruction of 
the Temple seem to be a religious observance 
(and thus less likely to be attributed to the 
passing of the island into Russian possession) 
[ 74 ] 


THE CUE OF A QUEUE 

rendered such a course necessary, however 
summary it might seem. 

It was more than an hour before all was in 
readiness ; and save for the extreme foresight of 
General Ling, all would not have been ready 
then. The storm had swept furiously upon us, 
and torrents of rain fell, to counteract which 
General Ling had oil in readiness to smear the 
Temple and the straw-thatched roofs, and other 
combustible material was piled against the 
Temple. Within, the Audience Room had 
been stripped of all decorations save the heavy 
curtain which hid the inner court from view, 
from which the Image of Gautama was brought 
into the centre of the Temple. 

“ A hot Nirvana for him,” thought I, as I 
paced restlessly by amid the confusion, think- 
ing of the end that was approaching it. 

After a long wait the priests from the farther 
building came in a body, and a more fright- 
ened crowd of men I hope I may never see. 
Those in the front rank were bold, even surly, 
but behind them were those who cringed and 
shrank. Their officers, who now openly as- 
serted their authority, much to my relief, bran- 
dished sabres, and urged on the timid with 
[ 75 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

sharp words of command and not a few sav- 
age thrusts. 

All being ready, General Ling drew back 
the curtain which hung before the inner court, 
and exposed a great rectangular hole in the 
floor made by raising the stone flagging above 
the hallway. A torch was given to each of 
the foremost men, and, taking a torch himself, 
General Ling leaped down. The men followed 
in dead silence, curiosity overwhelming their 
fears and sorrows, and crowded down the 
narrow hallway with many muttered exclama- 
tions of astonishment. Upon reaching the end 
of the dark passageway another great opening 
met their wondering eyes. A large space had 
been opened directly above the stone stairway. 
Down the stairs we passed, and the room 
below and its secret was in plain view. 

I looked about me at the peering faces, as 
the men stepped forward to see the contents 
of the apartment. With his usual foresight, 
General Ling had had the Sarcophagus placed 
within the wooden case, so that a plain box, five 
feet high and seven feet long, was all that was 
exposed to view. I did not know how many, 
if any, of those men dreamed what the box 
[ 76 ] 


THE CUE OF A QUEUE 

contained, but I thought by the action of some 
that they suspected that the “sacred treasure ” 
of Ching-ling was a corpse. But, my imagi- 
nation being a capricious quantity, I put aside 
idle speculation and went to work w r ith the 
others. 

It was plain that the most difficult task be- 
fore us — at least within the Temple — was to 
move the box the first step, or up to the hall- 
way above the room in which it rested. The 
stairway was cut in the solid rock and could 
not be removed. Moreover, it was composed 
of wide steps and only five of them in number. 
Ropes were let down and deflected into the room 
and placed around the box, and repeated trials 
were made before there was any gain. When 
at last the box was lifted, the ropes could not be 
raised sufficiently and the weight swung to the 
steps, striking them with a terrific crash, which 
showed, for one thing at least, that it was solid 
and able to stand all that could be reasonably 
expected of it. 

Li did not care to have that experiment re- 
peated, and he inquired immediately if there 
was not a room directly above that in which 
the box stood. General Ling answered affirm- 
[ 77 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

atively, and Li advised that the floor of that 
room be taken up. His suggestion seemed a 
practicable one; the work was instantly com- 
menced. A number of men went above and 
the work of raising the floor and removing the 
loose dirt was begun, and with Colonel Li, I 
guarded the Sarcophagus, those about us clear- 
ing away the debris which fell through the grow- 
ing aperture. Suddenly and without warning 
a great slab, loosened from its bed of surround- 
ing dirt, came crashing down upon us. I barely 
escaped having my leg caught under it ; and a 
priest at my side, who had been especially val- 
uable because of his authority over others and 
his notable activity and watchfulness, received 
a terrific blow on the head and sank with a 
groan between Colonel Li and myself. 

Colonel Li jumped quickly to the poor 
man’s rescue, and with my assistance drew 
him from the debris and dust into an adjoining 
apartment, which I had not seen before, where 
the soldiers who had guarded the Sarcophagus 
slept. The blow had been received fairly on 
the head, crushing in the wire net in which 
Quelpartiens put up their hair, and had inflicted 
a serious, if not fatal, wound. 

[ 78 ] 


THE CUE OF A QUEUE 

Men were at once sent for water, and I, re- 
membering my flask in the pocket of my great- 
coat, went to the Temple, where I had cast it 
aside. 

As I hurried through the Temple of Ching- 
ling for my whisky flask, I felt a something 
in the air which gave me a sudden, terrible 
warning. I thought at first the accident had 
played a little trick on my nerves, and, as I re- 
traced my steps, I drew away at my flask my- 
self. But no — it was not that. Everything 
took on a new appearance, and I dodged at my 
own shadow on the walls. Men were hasten- 
ing by me, running through the halls and the 
Temple, stumbling on the ladders and disap- 
pearing through numerous doors ; the acci- 
dent is being reported, thought I, and the 
simple-minded and superstitious are disturbed 
by it. 

Thus I argued the case within me as I ran 
down the steps into the room where the Sar- 
cophagus stood. The room was quite empty. 
Above me the work of removing the floor con- 
tinued, the workers having started up a sing- 
song chant such as Quelpartiens indulge in 
while working. But below a strange silence 
[ 79 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

reigned. Seeing the torchlight in the further 
room, I hurried thither, flask in hand. 

I shall not describe the sight which met my 
eyes in all its frightfulness of detail. Colonel 
Li and General Ling were standing near the 
center of the room, each looking at the other 
in speechless horror. In Li’s hand was his 
sword, the blade hidden behind his robe. 

On the floor before them lay a headless 
corpse. 

Both men attempted to look at me, but they 
could not take their eyes from each other. 
Together they turned like automatons, still 
staring one another in the face, speechless. 

“ A sharp stone,” I gasped at last, drawing 
my revolver. 

Then, slowly, Colonel Li’s other hand came 
up from his side, drawing after it what seemed 
to me a black cord. And he raised aloft the 
head of the corpse at his feet, holding it by the 
end of its finely braided queue. 

“ The Chinese ! ” We three spoke the words 
simultaneously. Then old Ling dropped his 
face into his hands, but Li lifted his stream- 
ing sword and, with an awful oath, struck again 
the headless body at his feet. 

[8o] 




































































■ 














' 

. 





THE CUE OF A QUEUE 

Such was the dramatic announcement of our 
betrayal in the Temple of Ching-ling. Prince 
Tuen, in order to secure the Queen’s body, 
had corrupted the priests of the Temple. The 
man accidentally injured was a Chinaman who 
had joined the priests without detection. 
He was perhaps the leader of the awful plot. 
Thus, in a few swift words, we analyzed the 
situation. 

Feeling my revolver in one hand and my 
flask in the other, I replaced the weapon and 
drank from the flask. Then I passed it to my 
companions and the liquor restored us. In- 
stinctively drawing our swords, we dashed up- 
stairs. The building seemed quite deserted. 
Here and there, however, we found our men 
talking in frightened groups, or, unconscious 
of the disturbance, working away at their va- 
rious tasks. Crowding them together, Colonel 
Li, the genius among us, looked them over 
quickly. 

“ We are betrayed,” he said firmly. “ There 
are no priests here who live in the outer build- 
ing.” To prove his terrible suspicion, he called 
a witless fellow from his task and sent him to 
summon the priests from the outer building 
6 [ 8 1 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

back to their work ; but as the messenger went 
out, the gates were closed securely. 

A deep silence settled over the Temple as we 
waited. But our suspense was not lasting. A 
rifle-crack broke the deathly stillness, and its 
echo rattled long in the rocky canyon of Lynx 
Island. 

Colonel Li was right ; we were surrounded 
by armed servants of the Chinese Prince com- 
manded by Chinamen in disguise. With us 
was the Sarcophagus of the Queen, the preser- 
vation of which determined the destiny of the 
reigning dynasty. 

And the Temple was drenched with oil ! 


CHAPTER NINE 


THE HOLOCAUST 

A LARM is not so terrible when an enemy 
is located and his distance measured. 
Despite the peril of our situation, surrounded 
as we were in the little Temple of Ching-ling 
by the armed body of treacherous priests who 
had been corrupted by emissaries of the Chinese 
Prince, our fears were not so acute as when, 
for a moment, each of us looked the other in 
the eye, a traitorous accusation on each stern 
lip. As our suspicions of one another lifted, 
and we counted a score of men left with, and 
still faithful to, the treasure, a great weight 
rolled from my heart, and I could see that 
General Ling and Colonel Li experienced like 
relief. 

Honor and praise to those two brave, faith- 
ful men on that night ; not because it was their 
last night on earth, but because, brought sud- 
denly to bay by the cruel foe so long feared, 
they showed the stern stuff of which they were 
[ 83 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

made. In spite of the many aspersions cast 
upon their race by the unknowing world, I 
remember with awe the courage of those men, 
and realize something of what millions of other 
hearts may be capable of enduring, though 
they be oriental and heathen ! 

Caught once by the deceptive wire head- 
dress, Colonel Li first determined to thwart 
further danger from that source, lest there be 
traitors still among us. Accordingly, one by 
one, the trembling priests were made to kneel 
while their hair was loosened from the netting 
where such strange secrets might lurk. As the 
long hair fell down over the face and shoulders 
of each, and testimony of faithfulness to the 
King came from lips parched with fear, we all 
took heart to make ready a stout resistance. 

A search for arms was instituted by Colonel 
Li, and, knowing the thoughtfulness of General 
Ling, I was surprised that the search resulted 
in producing but two guns. There were per- 
haps a dozen revolvers at our disposal. But 
Ling, nothing daunted, put out his sentries, 
who could, at least, give warning when the 
assault came, and summoned all the others 
within the Temple walls. 

[84] 


THE HOLOCAUST 


Even to the most confused among us some 
things were very plain. There was now no 
longer any hope of keeping the Sarcophagus 
secreted within the Temple, for every traitor 
had looked upon it, and could find it again 
wherever in that subterranean apartment we 
might stow it. Any secret there would be 
readily unraveled. The only hope was, then, 
to obtain assistance from without, drive away 
the villains, and carry the Sarcophagus im- 
mediately to the “ Dulcette.” 

I am sure we thought frequently of the 
enemy by which we were surrounded and of 
his plans, but of this no one so much as spoke. 
How old was the conspiracy? How had it 
been effected ? Had the conspirators been 
warned by confederates who reached Lynx 
Island before us ? Had it been disconcerted 
by the sudden arrival of Colonel Li ? What 
was the object of the conspirators in assisting 
us to raise the Sarcophagus ? — these and a 
score of other questions I asked myself, but I 
could give no answer. Our success depended, 
I felt sure, on the rapidity with which I could 
get my Cossacks into this canyon of Lynx 
Island. Of them I was confident and so was 

[85] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Li ; he did not mention his own body of horse 
at this juncture of our affairs, and I did not 
anticipate that he would ! However, I felt 
like kneeling to the man, as he stood there 
in the Temple, surrounded by his trembling 
priests, to ask him to forgive my suspicions 
of him. 

Plans having been decided upon, we went at 
once to raise the Sarcophagus to the Temple 
area, ready to be transported at the moment 
of the arrival of assistance — if, indeed, assist- 
ance should ever come ! We mustered twenty 
men, four of the priests belonging within the 
Temple walls having bolted out of the gates 
with the others, now, doubtless, prisoners; 
though I thought Ling and Li were secretly 
hoping that they had gone to summon help. 

The work went on more rapidly than I 
feared it would, the aperture above the box 
being found quite completed. Slowly we lifted 
the dead weight by sheer strength of arm and 
shoulder, and, once in the narrow hallway, we 
made a quick journey to the second opening, 
and there lifted it again. Silently we laid the 
treasured coffin of the Queen in the area of 
the Temple, and covered it with a drapery 
[ 86 ] 


THE HOLOCAUST 


made of the great curtain which had formerly 
hung before the inner court. 

This done, I bethought me of another duty, 
and quickly let myself down into the lower 
hallway, hastening toward the bloody ante- 
chamber. As I descended the stone steps the 
skirt of a Quelpartien robe disappeared through 
the door toward which I was hurrying. Plac- 
ing my hand on my revolver I went on without 
flinching. It was General Ling, moved to 
come here by a similar motive. Together we 
moved the body to the bed, and Ling (for I 
could not) arranged it in proper position there. 
He then came out with me, and ascended the 
wide stone steps, weeping. 

I made a hurried round of our guards. All 
was quiet. No one had appeared, though we 
could hear footsteps of sentries without, walk- 
ing guard about the walls, and now and again 
we heard stones rolling from the sides of the 
canyon ; when it became evident that our 
court was being watched from those heights, 
the carrying of torches was forbidden. 

I returned to the Temple. I had considered 
the whole situation and had determined, myself, 
to make the attempt to summon assistance. 

[ 87 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

The officers had just ended a discussion as I 
entered, and I found I had been anticipated, 
for messengers were to be chosen by lot un- 
til an answer was received from without. I 
went to Li and quickly put an end to this 
arrangement. 

“You may draw my name first, Colonel Li,” 
I said, “ for I shall be the first to go.” 

The good man raised his hands to object, 
but I would not let him interrupt. “ I can get 
through if another can,” I continued, “ and, once 
through, I can quickest get our yacht into ser- 
vice and reach Wun Chow and my Cossacks.” 

“But, sir,” broke in rough old Ling, “you 
are more likely to drop dead in your tracks 
once over the wall.” 

“ As well dead there as here,” I said, as 
gruffly. 

“ Or captured alive and — ” This was from 
Li. He did not finish, for he saw me start. 

“ Faugh ! ” I burst out, partly for my own 
encouragement (for Li’s suggestion would have 
daunted a more headstrong man even than 
myself), “ I do not fear the cowards. More- 
over, a foreigner would fare better in their 
hands than a native.” 

[ 88 ] 


THE HOLOCAUST 


Li, who knew me best, yielded first; then 
Ling acquiesced, but inconsolable, as one could 
well see. I guessed at a selfish reason and 
spoke to him, and what I said struck home. 

“ If I get through it will make your son 
a captain. Let us not both die — for his 
sake.” 

So it came about that I attempted the jour- 
ney down the cliffs of Lynx Island that night, 
though it was certain, as old Ling said, while 
he helped me get ready, that I was running a 
most murderous gauntlet. But in my heart I 
preferred it to remaining in the Temple. In 
such times I am quite a coward if I cannot be 
in action, — many a man has led a rout because 
he could not lead a charge. 

As I crossed the court in the darkness the 
nearest sentry was standing still, listening, and 
Ling, Li, and I stopped, too. Now and again 
the tramping of many feet approached the 
wall, retiring immediately, but to return again. 
It was quite unintelligible to me, but I noticed 
the men were anxious that I be gone. I crossed 
to the farther wall, where all was still. As the 
sentry without trudged by toward the corner, I 
sprang upon a straw-thatched roof and climbed 
[89] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

from it to the wall, where I lay down, looking 
over. Nothing was audible save the tread of 
the returning sentry. His head was five feet 
below me. I leaned further over to add my 
arm’s length to that of my sword. Uncon- 
scious of his peril, the fool walked under me, 
and then sank lifeless to the ground without 
a groan. 

I fell after him and not an instant too soon, 
for at that moment a form came quickly to 
the corner and, uttering a single but piercing 
exclamation, fled into the darkness. I stopped 
once to listen. All I heard was the sound of 
rolling stones started from their places by my 
feet. 

But it was not my duty to inquire into the 
method of the campaign conducted by the 
besiegers of the Temple. My duty was to 
get my Cossacks at the earliest possible mo- 
ment, and I ran on to the crest of the canyon, 
where I paused to breathe before risking my 
life on the cliffs below. The hillside was all 
rocks. One by one I reached for them and 
slid and fell forward to the next, sometimes 
with good fortune, but more often evil. Now 
and again I paused in my flight to gain my 
[ 90 ] 


THE HOLOCAUST 

breath, or measure the extent of my latest 
injury. 

I must have been more than halfway down, 
for I had fallen again and was lying quite help- 
less where I fell, watching the lights on the 
yacht below me, when a dull, unearthly roar 
sent a million echoes ringing through the 
rocky canyon, and reverberating sharply among 
the hills beyond Wun Chow. A light, as of a 
descending comet, suddenly lit up the thunder- 
heads over Lynx Island ; then the dulled glare 
of burning buildings filled the sky. 

The Temple of Ching-ling had been fired. 

As I lay there, dazed, delayed explanations 
seemed to come to my distracted mind, — 
explanations of all the miscellaneous phenomena 
which accompanied the complete triumph of 
the emissaries of the Chinese Prince Tuen. 
Then I thought of the good men — God have 
pity on their darkened souls ! — who were being 
burned beside the treasure. 

The treasure ! What of it ? I knew too 
well the answer. There was now no sacred 
Sarcophagus. There was now no body of the 
Queen to bury, though a nation was preparing 
for the Imperial pageant but five days off! 

[9i] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

And the dynasty — it, too, was doomed now 
with every kinsman of the late Queen. 

All this swept over me as I lay in utter 
darkness on the hillside. Then, on the land 
breeze which came with the storm, I heard the 
clatter of horses’ hoofs on the distant hills. 

The signal of flame had been given ! My 
flying column of Cossacks was off for Kein- 
ning — with that letter of good news to 
Colonel Oranoff! 


[ 92 ] 


CHAPTER TEN 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 

W HEN I regained consciousness I was 
lying in my berth on the “ Dulcette.” 
My head was heavily bandaged, and I could not 
move my left arm. I found this out by trying 
to do so, and for a little time I was unconscious 
again. 

As consciousness returned once more, I 
lay very still, thinking of my strange dream. 
For hours, it seemed, I had been watching a 
bear walking slowly over a great meadow of 
red and white, — the red portion steadily grow- 
ing larger, for the bear was bleeding. The 
blood was spreading in all directions, and I 
thought the animal was wounded in the shoul- 
der. This reminded me of something, but I 
could not for the life of me tell what it was ; I 
thought I wrote it down, intending to ask 
Oranoff. The bear went on limping until it 
came to the mutilated body of a second bear, 
whereupon it arose on its hind legs, as though 
[ 93 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

crazed with grief, and then keeled over upon 
its back and lay pawing the air convulsively, 
which set me to laughing. This woke me up. 

For a while I could not get the connections 
of things, and now and then I saw that bear 
again. But the world came back clearly to me 
at last, and I remembered with a groan the 
events of the night previous — or had it all 
happened weeks before? I remembered Ling 
and Li, and wondered if they were really burned 
alive with the Sarcophagus and their faithful 
priests. Perhaps, at the last moment, they did 
escape, and the Imperial Funeral had long since 
been celebrated and the Russian protectorate 
successfully declared. Or perhaps Ling had 
attempted to escape with the Sarcophagus and 
had been cut down swiftly on the walls. For 
some reason I felt, even now, that the destruc- 
tion of the Temple, so long and so cunningly 
planned, had been accomplished. 

Then suddenly my mind jumped feverishly 
across the mountains to Keinning, whither my 
Cossacks had taken that letter to Colonel 
Oranoff, in which I promised to be in Keinning 
with the Queen’s body within two days ! Here 
I groaned aloud, and, to my surprise, Captain 
[ 94 ] 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 


Kepneff arose from a chair at the head of my 
berth and leaned over me. 

“ If you are able, Martyn,” he said, with 
greatest gentleness, “ let us have an understand- 
ing at once, for with Colonel Li gone I am 
under your orders. We found you on the 
rocks last night while hurrying up to the 
Temple.” 

“ Was it destroyed ? ” I broke in. 

“ Utterly, — and all within it.” 

“ All ? ” 

“ Nothing remains but ashes and the bones 
of those cremated.” 

I groaned aloud. A sob broke from the face 
above me. For a time I could not answer, and 
I listened to the flabby drum that was now 
starting out across the bay again in search of 
devils. But as I listened my thoughts ran on 
to the task now dropped unexpectedly on my 
poor shoulders. I must now do what Li would 
have done, and I tried to think what that would 
be. 

“ Will you telegraph to Keinning ? ” asked 
Kepneff, gently. 

“ Yes, from Han Chow,” I said, remembering 
Oranoff’s words. 


[ 95 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I did not know what I was asking, for the 
storm which had come down upon Lynx Island 
was still raging over the Yellow Sea, stirring 
the mud bottoms to their stagnant depths. 
There was but one way for Kepneff to get me 
to Han Chow, and that was by running around 
the southern extremity of Quelparte to the 
mouth of the Khan, and ascending that river. 
It was a desperate risk, but he knew some- 
how that we were at a desperate pass, and 
without a word to me he set the little craft 
into the teeth of the gale. By worrying cau- 
tiously along in the lee of the islands which lay 
between Lynx Island and the mouth of the 
Khan, Kepneff, brave man, neared the river as 
day began to dawn. 

The tossing of the little vessel caused me 
excruciating pain, and it was only by bracing 
myself firmly that I kept from rolling upon my 
injured arm. But when, now and then, we ran 
into smooth water behind the numerous islands, 
my thoughts turned from myself to the play in 
which I was becoming so important an actor. 

One thing was sure, now. Dejneff’s fine- 
spun theories regarding one of those absurd 
Quelpartien myths would soon be put to the 
[ 96 ] 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 


test. There was no doubt about the destruc- 
tion of the Sarcophagus and of the Queen’s 
body within it. Now, if the myth held good, 
the King of Quelparte was to become insane 
and his dynasty perish. I smiled grimly as my 
thoughts ran on ; while I knew every sane man 
would agree with me and against Dejneff 
touching this silly belief, I had not expected to 
precipitate any such actual test as this ! 

Howbeit, Dejneff had not been willing to 
admit that the relatives of the desecrated dead 
could become insane until they knew of the 
desecration — and who knew of the destruc- 
tion of the Queen’s body except its destroyers 
and myself? Not one human being! And 
would I tell — or could they make me? 

In such a wise did my thoughts turn anxiously 
to those who had won the game at the Temple 
of Ching-ling. Kepneff evidently had no trace 
of them, for he told me frankly that all had been 
destroyed. I was sure that, had he any trace 
of them, he would not have spoken in such a 
way. Evidently their original plan to get pos- 
session of the Queen’s body had been frus- 
trated by the sudden advance of the date of the 
funeral and by the arrival of Colonel Li and 
7 [ 97 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

myself on the scene. But after that, they had 
played their forced hands desperately and well, 
and my accidental escape was all that now 
stood between them and complete triumph. 
With an oath I swore into my wet pillow that 
I would still thwart their damnable, hellish plot 
even more completely than I had already f 
That funeral must be postponed, and the de- 
struction of the Queen’s body be kept a royal 
secret! Here I laughed and clinched my 
fists ; the thrill of our wild game was on me, 
and I was instantly caught up in a delirium of 
daring courses. 

And yet some very sober second thoughts 
came to me as the day grew brighter. What 
of our Russian protectorate ? As I thought 
of that phase of the affair things took on a 
different color. It was one thing to win from 
Tuen by postponing the funeral, but quite 
another thing to ask Colonel Oranoff to post- 
pone the announcement of the protectorate. 
It certainly could not be announced when the 
people were just cheated out of a holiday upon 
which so many thousand hearts had been so long 
and so fondly set. If the pageant were post- 
poned, Tuen’s men might easily raise the cry that 
[ 98 ] 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 


Tuen had, after all, “pawed Quelparte over” 
with success, and the proof of it was that there 
was no Queen to bury. 

But by the time our little boat had beaten her 
way into the smooth course of the Khan I had 
definitely resolved to telegraph Oranoff to post- 
pone the funeral ; this was the important thing. 
Other matters must adjust themselves some 
way. And despite my mental suffering the 
hours of quiet had done wonders for me ; I 
felt stronger than I had thought I could, and 
while Kepneff protested vigorously against my 
venturing out, I had my way and was soon 
striding up the main street of Han Chow 
toward the long, low building to which the zig- 
zag line of telegraph poles from Keinning led 
me. 

A boy sleepily answered my shout and I en- 
tered the paper door into a large room which I 
saw at once was the operating room. 

“ Can I send a message to Keinning ? ” I 
said hurriedly. 

The lad stood speechless. A voice in the 
next room spoke a surly monosyllable, and the 
boy answered : 

“ Yes.” 


; L. of C. 


[ 99 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I turned to the table and composed the 
following : 

“ Message carried by Cossacks premature. 
Am returning on ‘ Dulcette’ alone. Postpone 
funeral indefinitely. Martyn.” 

After re-reading, I re-wrote this in cipher 
and handed it to the man who now appeared, 
adjusting his raiment. It was all I thought 
best to say. It was unnecessary for Oranoff 
to know that his worst fears had been real- 
ized. This I thought (and much else) as I 
held out the paper to the lazy fellow, who 
began to blush and back away. I was angry 
in a moment, and with good reason, and roared 
out to the man, who spoke again to the boy. 
Then the boy said to me : 

“ He says that you asked if you could send 
a message.” 

Whereupon the fellow pointed to the instru- 
ment, nodding wildly. 

I wanted to knock the nodding head off the 
man’s shoulders, in my anger. He was hold- 
ing the message in his hands where he lay when 
I crossed the room. The boy fled. In my de- 
spair I touched the instruments. I fondled the 
shining little bars. I opened the key and shut 

L ioo ] 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 


it, each motion being recorded on the receiver. 
Then the receiver began to sing alone monoto- 
nously, and then it stopped for a reply. Sweat 
poured from my face, and I thought of putting 
my mouth down and of shouting my message 
into the instrument. Then I arose, crossed 
the room, and kicked down the paper walls. 

Cautiously the boy returned with a man 
who could explain the situation, and from him 
I learned that a new “Minister of Interior” 
had recently been appointed, and, to satisfy a 
great host of relatives halfway down to the 
“ eighth joint,” even the telegraph service had 
to be invaded, capable operators being thrown 
out and novices put in their places. They had 
held office a month now, and not a message 
had passed over the Imperial Quelpartien Tele- 
graph line. All this I learned as I stormed 
out of the building and down the straggling 
street to the village. 

Consider my desperate plight. A hundred 
mountainous miles from Keinning, and out of 
connection with it, no decent horse to ride, and 
the Imperial Funeral but four days off, not to 
be postponed until I could come and declare 
that there was no Queen’s body to bury ! 

[ ioi ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

It so happens to a fellow sometimes (and 
happily for his sanity) that failure becomes so 
overwhelmingly apparent that he feels he is 
being led providentially into paths he would 
never otherwise have entered. As I ran to the 
shore of the Khan and was being taken to the 
“ Dulcette,” it was a relief to stop and assure my- 
self that none of the luckless train of unfor- 
tunate events had occurred through any con- 
scious failure of my own. I could not see 
where I should have done other than that I had 
done. Had I not played a poor hand well ? 

These reflections fortified me to meet Kep- 
neff and his dark face — for they had had a fear- 
ful night and were loath, I saw at once, to hurry 
out to sea again. 

I stated my plight to Kepneff as clearly as 
possible without revealing my secret. His 
gloomy face grew darker. He looked down- 
stream and asked if I could not go by land. 
Then he went and studied his charts and in- 
struments and left me alone in agony. 

Day broke, and with it came the tide, moon- 
led up the great rivers of Quelparte, — that tide 
of the end of the sea. As I sat on the deck of 
the yacht and stared gloomily before me, what 
[ 102 ] 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 


I saw matched my sickening brain. We were 
(while the great tide of the Yellow Sea was out) 
thirty feet below the high-water line. A thou- 
sand slimy roots lay exposed to view, covered 
with black mud which slid off continually and 
dropped into the water below. A thousand hate- 
ful, crawling things were wriggling back into 
the river. Banks of reeking mud lay open to 
view, sagging, stinking, slinking into their own 
unfathomable depths. The cavern of Avernus 
has never been pictured so horrible as the un- 
bared sea-coast and river-banks at the Yellow 
Sea end of the sea. 

Then, silently, a change came. Our little 
boat drifted to the other side of its anchorage, 
and reeds and grasses and branches, mud-coated, 
swung leisurely up-stream, by the order of the 
setting moon. The drifting became a flowing, 
and the flowing a flood-tide, sweeping swiftly 
inland from the storm-tossed sea. One by one 
the great mud-banks disappeared from sight, 
and the crawling things and the black roots 
were covered by murky, boiling waters. Lower 
and lower the land seemed to fall, as our little 
craft shot thirty feet and more into the air, and 
on the wind, which followed the rising waters, 
[ 103 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

came the noise of the incessant clamor and 
crash of the sea where the waves pounded the 
black sea-wall. 

When Kepneff woke me, his face was still 
dark, for the poor man knew he could not 
weather that sea, and had to tell me so. And 
I saw at the water’s edge two ponies, saddled. 
I knew the rest. 

After two terrible days and nights Kepneff’s 
servant and I reached Keinning. The first 
night we slept a few hours in a deserted hut 
near a village where we had made an unsuc- 
cessful attempt to purchase new mounts. Our 
two little Korean ponies broke down in the 
middle of the afternoon, and we had pushed on 
this far afoot. The second day our experience 
was similar, though the ill-fed horses gave way 
sooner on the rough, unused road along the 
mountain ridges. We walked on. At last we 
stopped on the summit of a precipitous ridge 
and built a fire. My man had brought a little 
rice with him, and we put it to boil before try- 
ing to push on to the nearest village. After 
consuming our meagre dinner, he went into the 
valley to the brook, and after a long absence 
returned. 


[ 104] 


AT THE END OF THE SEA 


On a stone by our fire he placed two freshly 
baked loaves of Chinese bread. I was too 
thankful to question gift or giver, though noth- 
ing could have been more miraculous to me. 
KepnefFs servant only smiled. At a venture I 
drew from my belt a roll of Japanese yen and 
he weighted them down with a little stone on 
the rock beside the fire, and I felt that hidden 
eyes were watching us as we passed away. 

That afternoon we procured more ponies, 
and at dusk passed the Imperial Mausoleum 
outside of Keinning. 


[105] 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


KEINNING 

T HE capital of Quelparte was arrayed in 
its barbaric best. Even by night and 
without other light than that of the moon, the 
holiday attire of the heathen city was spec- 
tacular. I could hardly stay on my weak 
little pony, and but for my companion’s arm 
I should have fallen to the ground never 
to see Keinning that night. Yet this sight — 
a nation prepared for the funeral of a Queen 
whose corpse I could not bring to them — 
stung my heart to new strength. 

For a long distance before reaching the city 
we had been passed by crowds of pilgrims 
wending their way toward Keinning. Every 
mouth was talking of the great celebration, 
and those who were silent were thinking as 
they trudged along only of the pageant they 
were to witness at their journey’s end. The 
great forms of the men in their loose clothes 
seemed to occupy all the roadway, as they 
[ 106] 


KEINNING 


swung along with giant strides. What a na- 
tion of soldiers the Quelpartiens would make ! 
Men of such stature are nowhere to be found 
in the world, and yet their white apparel ex- 
aggerates their proportions. But their paces 
suggest their immense size ; and, one after 
another, they passed my horse all day long as 
though it were a wounded snail. 

The road was much like that between Kein- 
ning and Lynx Island, — narrow, stony, cir- 
cuitous. How a civilization can be judged by 
its roads ! Who could not tell from these little, 
twisting, rough roads of Quelparte that it had 
always been a conquered, apathetic Hermit 
Nation ! 

As it grew dark and w^e were within sight 
of Keinning, we fell in with several parties of 
pilgrims who were not able to better our own 
poor rate of traveling. As we rode behind 
such a party Kepneff’s servant listened to their 
conversation, and I asked him what was said. 
After waiting a moment, he repeated to me 
each traveler’s remarks in turn : 

“ We are lucky to get in before the robbers 
are out.” 

“ Yes, the robbers will do big business before 
[ 107] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

the great moon has set.” The speaker looked 
back at us and seemed to feel more safe in our 
company. 

“We might as well be robbed by highway- 
men as by the government, I think,” put 
in another of the band. Several laughed 
solemnly. 

“ Has the government been robbing you 
lately ? ” asked the first speaker. 

“ No, but it will get to us in time; since the 
Americans found gold in the mountains the 
government has been sending out men to lo- 
cate gold mines around through the country. 
They came into Chulla province last month. 
They find out who the rich men of a province 
are, and then go to their family graveyards 
and decide that there is a large gold mine on 
that very spot.” A deep, querulous growl 
arose from each man in the company. 

“ But they don’t dig the graves up for gold, 
do they ? ” 

“ Oh, no ; the owners are afraid they will go 
insane if the graves are disturbed, and so they 
pay large sums of money to the government 
prospectors, who move along to the next 
wealthy man on their list.” 

[ 108 ] 


KEINNING 


For a time there was silence as each one 
pondered the matter, now and then emitting 
a half cry and groan as the plight of their poor 
country came up before their eyes. 

“ The funeral has been long delayed,” some 
one put in after a continued silence. 

“ Yes, and the King will breathe easier when 
the body is in that marble tomb.” 

“ He will be lucky to get it there too, against 
Tuen’s bragging.” 

“ Look at the banners,” another cried out, 
suddenly. We had approached nearer the 
city than we knew, and beside the gate great 
bamboo poles bore silken flags announcing 
the Imperial Funeral. 

“ Oh, see the roof,” a third traveler cried out, 
at the sight of the green and red flags and 
streamers which ran off westward with the 
evening breeze. As with the gates, so with 
the streets, the Bell House, the Legations, the 
Marble Pagoda, — flags, streamers, pennons, 
banners, were everywhere, and my heart sank 
lower as I watched each piece of bunting rise 
on the freshening wind. 

The words of the countryman concerning 
Tuen struck home hard and quick, and 
[ 109 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

trebled every fear I had known. If all these 
thousands were talking thus, what would be said 
when the announcement of postponement was 
made? Yet I knew Oriental statesmen were 
prolific in excuses, and I doubted not for one 
moment Oranoff’s ability to meet the ex- 
tremity. Some reason would be raked up 
which could quiet the people. The King 
might be taken ill ; we had him, and it surely 
would be no task to arrange some hitch. The 
soothsayers could be bribed (if there were any 
roubles left ! ) to put the affair off. 

Such were my thoughts as my pony stalked 
unsteadily over the stones of the gate and into 
the wide avenue lying white beneath the moon. 
It was crowded, as though another Spring rice 
famine was on the land and had brought a 
dozen Coxey’s armies to Keinning ; yet this 
was not a famine crowd, for it was well dressed 
and not very drunk. The merchants in their 
booths, and the candy boys with their trays 
strapped to their backs were doing a big busi- 
ness. How they would growl when this cele- 
bration was postponed ! 

I felt my pony growing weaker, and at last 
the poor thing stopped and then sank slowly 

[ IIO] 


KEINNING 


upon the ground. KepnefFs servant caught 
me in his arms, and tried to lift me to his own 
horse. I asked him to support me while I 
attempted to walk to the Legation, the blaze 
of its lights making it seem now but a short 
distance away. So we went forward, but as I 
gazed unsteadily upon the blur of lights, my 
strength left me, poor swimmer that I was, just 
as I neared the river shore ! My companion 
dragged me along to the Legation gate where 
the Cossack guard came to his assistance. 
From there they took me in the first door, 
which happened to be the anteroom of the 
Throne Room where the new Sarcophagus 
stood awaiting the body that I did not bring. 
Here I revived and asked to be taken to my 
own room. With my last bit of strength I 
closed the lid of the Sarcophagus that no one 
might know that I had failed in my errand. 
Then I sank on a Cossack’s shoulder and let 
go of everything. 

When I became myself I was in my own 
bed, a soft hand on my brow; my boy Pak was 
standing beside Dulcine, and in a chair pulled 
up before the fire Dejneff was sprawled out, 
his face tilted dejectedly over into his great 

[in] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

beard. Nothing could have brought me more 
quickly to my senses than that picture of 
Dejneff, and I closed my eyes and went to 
work on the miserable problem now confronting 
me. 

I knew and felt at the time that I should 
have called Dejneff and Oranoff to me and 
made a clean breast of everything, but as fate 
would have it I had conceived a sort of a plan 
which to my dazed brain bade fair to save me 
from making a confession. I would go to the 
King and tell him that Ling and Li had 
perished in the fire which consumed the 
Temple of Ching-ling, and that I, being only 
an aide, had not been allowed to take the 
Queen’s body from Lynx Island, — the order 
Li carried from the King being lost with him. 
By this ruse the funeral would be postponed at 
least until another messenger was sent to Lynx 
Island for the corpse ; in the meantime new 
and better plans could be made. 

So I lay quiet under the stroking of that 
kind hand until Dejneff got up and went un- 
steadily out of the room. Then I pretended 
to return to consciousness and attempted to sit 
up. I was surprised at my success ; evidently 
[IW] 


KEINNIN G 

the nourishment given me was of no weak 
character. 

“ Lie down, Robert,” Dulcine said softly ; 
“you are ill; the doctor is coming soon.” 

“ I must not be ill,” I blurted out. “ Where 
is Colonel Oranoff ? ” 

“At Audience with the King — ’’Dulcine 
hesitated, and then added reluctantly, “ who 
has just sent for you.” 

“ Good,” I said with a spirit I did not pos- 
sess, “ I must go at once,” — before the doctor 
comes, I thought to myself. 

For a moment there was silence ; then, un- 
mindful of the servants, Dulcine seized my 
hands : 

“ Tell me first, Robert dear, have you 
brought it, — the Queen’s body ? ” 

I dreaded to begin my lying role, and es- 
pecially with this girl I loved, but I could see 
no happier alternative. Her face was pale, 
and I could see that some one had been suffer- 
ing beside myself. “ The storm has been 
terrible, and we were afraid the ‘ Dulcette ’ 
might be destroyed with all it contained,” she 
added. 

This was a new turn to the black lane I was 

8 [" 3 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

traveling, but I gave the same answer that 
had formed upon my lips. 

“We came overland, Dulcine.” A great, 
happy light broke over the girl’s face, and I 
saw she believed I had placed the Queen’s 
body in the new Sarcophagus Colonel Oranoff 
had prepared for it. I ached to tell her the 
truth, but I withheld it and let her bury her 
face in my hands a moment for very joy. 

When she left the room I got up sick at 
heart, and went over to the chair Dejneff had 
left, and sent Pak for a decanter of wine, from 
which I drank and drank desperately. I did 
not know how weak I was, nor how much 
liquor Dejneff had poured into me before. 

Then I asked to be taken to the King. 


t in j 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


ONE LIE I NEVER TOLD 

T HE great room was brilliantly lighted. 

At its end, on that mottled throne, sat 
the King of Quelparte, his Cabinet ranged 
before him in an extended semi-circle. On 
his left at a small table sat Prince Ting, the 
Prime Minister. Behind Prince Ting stood 
a group of Household Ministers. On the 
King’s right Colonel Oranoff was seated at the 
head of a long table, his head in his hands, his 
elbows thrust characteristically into a mass of 
papers and maps. To him my swimming eyes 
went quickly and there they rested long. 

M. Grouchy, the Russian Minister to Quel- 
parte, was standing midway down the table 
addressing “the Throne” amid cigarette rings 
which the King of Quelparte could blow as 
well as any wise man. The members of the 
Cabinet were leaning forward from their chairs 
in varying picturesque attitudes, intently listen- 
ing to the address. 


[ii5] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ Within two days,” M. Grouchy was saying, 
“ this decree of your great and noble King will 
be given to the people of Quelparte through 
the government ‘ Gazette.’ It is an auspicious 
time. The nation is enjoying a memorable 
holiday, and the happiness they must feel at 
coming at last under the protecting arm of the 
Czar of all the Russias will dispel in part the 
gloom which they feel at the burial of their be- 
loved Queen.” 

As Grouchy proceeded, my eyes were still 
on Oranoff. He sat quiet as a shadow while 
his underling spoke as he had directed, ex- 
panding on the benefits to accrue to Quelparte 
from Russian rule ; Oranoff never did his own 
talking, — he attended to the rest, with others 
to do that for him. 

“ Russia has been the boon of Asia and will 
be all that and more for Quelparte. But we 
do not desire,” the trickster went on, “ to hold 
Quelparte to any agreement to which the 
people of the country may in the least ob- 
ject. As you know, this agreement can be ter- 
minated at any time by either government. 
It will be the purpose of my government to 
study, during the following days, the sentiment 
[n6] 


ONE LIE I NEVER TOLD 


of the people of Quelparte, and if it is found 
that an alliance with Russia such as we have 
signed to-night is displeasing to the people 
of Quelparte, Russia will immediately with- 
draw from the agreement and remove the 
officials whom your King has appointed to 
high office.” 

With such words M. Grouchy paved the 
way to throw Quelparte over to Japan when 
the lease of Port Arthur was announced. 

I had entered the room without attracting 
attention, and I stood by the door listening to 
the Russian’s words. It was clear that the 
news brought by my Cossacks had put all in 
good cheer, and that the funeral was to come 
off as proposed, beginning day after to-morrow. 
I had been blinded by the brilliant light in 
the room, and the scene I have described came 
to me slowly, and no other picture has stayed 
with me — save one — so perfect in detail and 
color. Totally unbalanced as I must have 
been by fatigue, and desperately drugged with 
wine, I remember turning from the bright light 
and wishing that I could, after all, tell Ivan 
Oranoff the truth. But even as I reached 
helplessly to the wall for support, the hilt of my 
[ii7] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

sword went clanging against it and every face 
in the room looked my way. 

I believe the King himself recognized me first 
or at least saw me first ; he arose and pointed 
the fire-tipped end of his cigarette toward me. 
The Cabinet arose, and M. Grouchy ceased his 
remarks. Of these things I am a little uncer- 
tain, but I am not at all uncertain as to Colonel 
Oranoff. I knew well enough I was late — 
later than I should have been without tele- 
graphing him the reason for my delay at such 
a time as this. I also knew that my report 
should have been to him, not to the Cabinet 
or the King. The man drew himself slowly 
to his feet and leaned over the table upon his 
hands heavily as I came swaying through the 
long room. 

I had not dressed for the occasion, and my 
bedraggled appearance and unsteady deport- 
ment evidently added luster to the heroic role 
I had suddenly chosen to assume. The King 
put his cigarette in his mouth and began puff- 
ing and clapping his hands. His nobles, mim- 
icking him in everything on peril of their lives, 
took the cue and applauded me vociferously, 
and I staggered on to the foot of that “ Throne ” 
[ 1 18 ] 


ONE LIE I NEVER TOLD 


(I could not have gone another yard for the 
King’s crown), receiving an ovation rather than 
the thrashing I deserved. 

“ The Temple of Ching-ling has been de- 
stroyed, I hear,” said the King, diplomatically. 
Then he laughed and drew at his cigarette. 

“Yes, Sire,” I answered, glad to find I could 
talk if I could not walk, “ the Temple of Ching- 
ling has been destroyed.” Then 1 added, 
eager to bolster up my string of lies with one 
undoubted truth, “ It was burned to the ground 
and lies in ashes.” 

“ Ah,” sighed the King of Quelparte, with 
admirable affectation; and then, just as I was 
opening my mouth, he turned to Prince Ting 
(evidently not wishing his Cabinet should guess 
that Lynx Island was to pass into the hands 
of the Russians), saying: 

“ Orders must be issued to all our sacred 
temples regarding the danger from fires and 
the removal of all combustibles to a safe dis- 
tance, and let it be known that no temple de- 
stroyed by accidental fire shall ever be rebuilt.” 

The wine on my empty stomach was at once 
my friend and my foe. It gave me strength, 
especially of sight! I felt Oranoff’s eyes on 
[ I! 9 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

my back, and I broke out for fear I could not 
speak at all soon : 

“ General Ling was burned with the Temple.” 

“ Ling lost,” echoed the King, holding his 
head sideways to avoid the smoke of his cigar- 
ette. “ Faithful Ling ; he was such a man as 
kings need — sometimes.” He leered signifi- 
cantly toward Oranoff as he said the words. 
This King was no novice and no fool, and 
he had a pretty wit all his own. 

“ He has a son in the army, Sire,” I said, 
keeping my promise to old Ling most unex- 
pectedly, “ as faithful as his father ; I pray you 
to remember him.” The King instantly turned 
to Prince Ting and said: 

“ Appoint Kim Ling to his father’s former 
office as Secret Guardian of the Queen.” 

I felt Oranoff’s eyes burning two holes in 
my back and I hurried on with my wretched 
story, for, as the King lived, I now had to hold 
one eye shut to keep from seeing two of him. 

And I knew the strength the liquor gave 
me was all the strength I had. 

“Colonel Li was lost too,” I murmured, hold- 
ing desperately to the carpet to keep from fall- 
ing off the floor. 


[ 120] 







ONE LIE I NEVER TOLD 


“ Li lost ! ” spit out the King of Quelparte, 
suddenly; this affected him. “It must have 
been a sudden fire.” 

“ It was, Sire, God knows it was sudden, 
but — ” and here the King broke in again with 
another gay laugh and cut off the words which 
were on my parched lips. 

I could not hold to the carpet any longer, 
and so with a happy sigh I let go and went out 
into space. 

“Accidental fires are sudden sometimes,” I 
heard the King laugh. But I was too far 
away now to answer. I heard much cheering, 
which sounded at a great distance, but I could 
move neither hand nor foot nor lip to tell 
either the truth or any falsehood. 


[«i] 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 


A NEW PROGRAM 

I F it seemed that I was unconscious, I was 
not. I knew well enough when I was 
tenderly gathered up out of space and borne 
to my bed again, and I knew when the doctor 
came. He was a good, faithful man with a 
beard like Dejneff’s and a gentle voice. I 
heard, some time before, that all the food the 
King had eaten for months after the murder 
of the Queen, when he feared that Tuen was 
attempting to poison him, was prepared by this 
man’s hands. The medicine he prepared was 
administered by my faithful nurse Dulcine, who 
came as soon as I had been put to bed. The 
medicine made my head stop ringing and I lay 
still thinking, for I could not sleep. 

Dulcine was humming the song of the 
Widowed Wild Goose. After a time Dejneff 
sauntered in again and flung himself down into 
his chair. Soon he too was humming the song, 
and I wondered if Dulcine had told him that 
[ 122 ] 


A NEW PROGRAM 


I had put the Queen’s body in the Sarcophagus. 
As soon now as I could I was determined to 
tell Dulcine the whole truth. But I decided 
to wait until Dejneff was out of hearing. 

Yet as I waited another step sounded at 
my bedside and I knew Colonel Oranoff had 
come from the King. 

“ What does all this mean ? ” he said without 
a single word of introduction. His voice was 
low and tense. Coward that I was, I did not 
move, and Dulcine answered simply: 

“ I do not know, father ; it was a hard trip 
to Keinning.” 

“ Did he swim to Tsi? ” was Oranoff’s reply, 
and the words were almost a groan ; “ the 
‘ Dulcette ’ did not bring him.” 

“ No, he did not swim to Tsi,” answered the 
girl, proudly ; “ he came overland.” 

“ And the Queen’s body ? ” the man cried 
out; “did he drag it over the mountains be- 
hind him ? ” I did not blame the man for his 
sarcasm ; my silence at such a crisis had been 
cruel. 

“ The Queen’s body,” said Dulcine Oranoff, 
composedly, “ is where it belongs — in the new 
Sarcophagus.” 


[ 123 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Oranoff repeated those startling words like 
a man in a dream ; then he asked, “ Do I un- 
derstand you, Dulcine ? ” She did not reply, 
and he spoke again as if the room were empty. 
“ He brought it overland because the little 
boat I sent could not weather the gale.” 

What I had passed through in the last week 
was nothing to this, — was nothing beside the 
stinging of those gentle words which were so 
much to my credit. When the man went out 
of the room, a head sank on the pillow beside 
my own and the bed trembled with a woman’s 
sobs. My own eyes were wet, and I fairly 
trembled as the realization of my position came 
over me. It was a positive relief when Dulcine 
pressed her face in my hands and arose and 
left the room. 

From the moment she had uttered those 
words to Colonel Oranoff my course was clear. 
I had done my best to bring the Queen’s body. 
Failing, I had then done my best to send an 
explanation and have the funeral postponed. 
Failing here also, I had come as fast as human 
strength permitted to arrange at the last mo- 
ment for a postponement of the pageant. I 
had lied outrageously to Dulcine, never think- 
[ 124] 


A NEW PROGRAM 


in g that the lie would be passed on. But now, 
since every one thought the Queen was safely 
in the Sarcophagus prepared for her — let them 
go on with their parade and show ! 

Who would know the difference ? No one 
but myself knew that the body had been de- 
stroyed, save only the wretches who destroyed 
it. I had been taken first to the anteroom 
where the Sarcophagus was, and with my own 
hands I had closed its golden lid. The very 
daring of it was the salvation of the plot. The 
faster I thought, the more reasonable it all 
seemed. The body was lost beyond all re- 
covery, and, after all, what would delay or post- 
ponement accomplish ? Nothing, perhaps, unless 
the terrible denouement that there was no Queen 
to bury ! 

Then, too, the Russian protectorate was at 
stake. Nothing would be surer than the fail- 
ure of Oranoff’s coup if the loss of the Queen’s 
body became known. 

The pageant must go on ! 

Then I remembered Tuen, and I clambered 
out of bed at the thought and went striding up 
and down the room, — a human ship in dis- 
tress! But I laughed as I went and clinched 

[125] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

my fists again, even as I did in my berth on 
the “ Dulcette.” This would be balking the 
devils that checkmated me that night on Lynx 
Island, — to have the funeral go on, Queen’s 
body or no Queen’s body! And what could 
they do ? Spread wild rumors, no doubt, but 
how could they prove them ? Who would 
dare question, by force, the burden of the royal 
catafalque? Or who would propose to ex- 
amine the contents of the royal bier? These 
things were out of the question. 

Yet there were risks, — I did not try to per- 
suade myself otherwise, — but they were incon- 
siderable to risking the possible failure of the 
Russian coup in Quelparte and perhaps a more 
terrible expose which might come with delay. 
A delay would lend a bad color to any rumor 
Tuen’s agents might circulate. 

As for an attack on the funeral procession 
itself, I would trust Dejneff to take care of 
that! The whole army was to surround the 
bier, and if such an attack were made and were 
successful, the Sarcophagus would be found 
empty and it would be no task to have it un- 
derstood that the body had been carried in the 
royal palanquin or in the casket prepared for 
[ 126] 


A NEW PROGRAM 


the memorial tablets — through fear of just 
such an attack! 

After a time I fell back on my bed satisfied 
that the ruse would hold good. In a maze of 
dire extremities a man often falls upon some 
happier alternative than he expected and finds 
a relief almost approaching joy. Having 
scanned the future as keenly as lay in my 
power, I saw no material objection to letting 
the game go on as the hands stood. 

While I could not sleep I lay resting on my 
bed in a better mood than I had known for 
many hours. 

Pak sat without my door, for I had not been 
sure before now that I would not need him. I 
longed for a word with some one, and so I 
talked a little with him before I sent him 
away. 

“ No, I am not very sick,” I replied to his 
kindly interrogation; “ I don’t know just what 
is the matter with me. Were you never sick 
and could not tell where?” 

“ You ought to have Hu Mok come and see 
you, then,” said Pak. 

“ Hu Mok ? ” I replied. “ Who is Hu Mok, 
Pak?” 


[127] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“He is a doctor who tells where people are 
sick when they don’t know themselves.” 

Pak was not failing me, and I plied my ques- 
tions concerning Hu Mok. 

“ He is a very wise doctor,” Pak explained, 
“who lives near Keinning; he is so wise that 
his eyebrows grow very long, longer even than 
Captain DejnefFs long shave.” 

“Longer than DejnefFs what?” I asked. 
Pak was very sharp at picking up English 
words, but sometimes he made an odd mistake. 

“ Longer than DejnefFs shave,” he repeated, 
holding his hand out from his chin. 

“You mean beard, Pak; shave means to cut 
off a beard.” Japanese barbers came to the 
Legation each day to treat those of us who 
desired their services. Pak had caught the 
wrong word again. But my laughter did not 
discompose him as it did when he was first in 
my service, and he continued : 

“ Yes, Hu Mok is very wise, and he braids his 
eyebrows and hangs the braids over his ears.” 

“ How does he tell what ’s the matter with 
people, Pak ? ” 

“With his magic stone; one day Hu Mok 
went away from home and when he came 
[ 128 ] 


A NEW PROGRAM 


back the day after he brought a stone so bright 
that you could looking-glass it.’* 

“ Use it as a looking-glass, Pak.” 

“Yes, you could see yourself in it; when 
any one is sick, Hu Mok comes and puts the 
stone on them and pretty soon he can tell 
where they are sick and what is the matter.” 

“ Then I don’t want Hu Mok, Pak,” I re- 
plied firmly and with great truth, “ for I don’t 
want Hu Mok or any one to see inside of me 
now.” 

As Pak made ready to leave I thought on 
Hu Mok and wondered if the X-ray doctor of 
Quelparte had anticipated the latest discovery 
of our western scientists ! 

I found myself stronger in the morning, but 
I could do no more, according to that kindly 
doctor who seemed to know more than I had 
admitted to him, than sit before my fire that 
day, and rest. Oranoff came early to my room 
and I fairly dreaded to look him in the face ; 
yet I did so frankly as of old, wondering if he 
would lay all my nervousness to the charge of 
my fatigued condition. He was full of busi- 
ness, and after congratulating me warmly he 
went his way. Dulcine and several ladies of 
9 [ 129 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

the Legation begged admittance to the “ hospi- 
tal,” and I found myself vaunted most uncom- 
fortably as a hero for bringing the Queen’s 
Sarcophagus overland in the little time allowed 
me. The party soon left for a long drive over 
the Imperial route to the Mausoleum to view 
the crowds and the mass of heathen bunting 
that buried the city now from gate to gate. 

Thus the day passed slowly. I never 
seemed able to think as intently as I desired, 
and I remember that day distinctly from my 
impatience at being disturbed, though I was 
left alone for hours at a time. So, restless as 
a hunted thing, I fought a battle out with my 
fears before my fire, and by night I was wholly 
content with my course once more. 

Dejneff lounged in before dinner and told 
me of the busy scenes of the day. My mind 
was intent on the night to come, and I asked 
pointedly what the people were saying of Tuen. 

“ Some say he will win at the end,” Dejneff 
replied slowly, “ but they ’ll miss their guess 
there. My troops are to surround the bier 
from the moment the King closes its lid until 
the great slab falls upon it. Tuen ’s lost so far, 
and he ’ll not win from Dejneff.” 

[ 130] 


A NEW PROGRAM 


I was on my feet in a moment, almost gasping. 

“From the time the King does what, Dej- 
neff ? ” I asked, trembling. 

“ The show starts out with the King closing 
the Sarcophagus in the Throne Room ; he 
looks in it for a last time to identify the Queen 
and then shuts and seals it officially. That 
moment your troops will surround it and guard 
it until we reach the Tomb. But there ’s the 
bell; can’t you come out to dinner, Martyn? ” 

I had gone over toward my bed while Dej- 
neff told me these things, and stood there 
dazed ; I was glad the room had not been 
lighted. Dejneff could not see me. 

“No, old man,” I replied, “you go on; I 
believe I ’m not hungry.” 

When he was out of the room I fell upon the 
bed with a groan. 

The King was to look into my empty casket ! 


[131] 


CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


DULCINE 


HERE are times when we know a crisis 



i has been passed, but it is rare that we 
know the exact moment of its passing. 

As I look back from the end to the begin- 
ning of the story I remember plainly — aye, best 
of all — the moment when Dulcine Oranoff 
raised her proud head and repeated to her 
father my desperate lie. It was impossible 
for the girl to think I had failed. Then, 
where else could the Queen’s body be but 
in the casket prepared for it ? 

I am very far from sorry that my eyes were 
not firmly closed when Dulcine uttered those 
thrilling words, for if I have one picture of her 
more worthy of the admiration of the curious 
than another, it is that of the lithe, trim girl 
fingering the lace of my pillow as she looked 
straight over me into her father’s eyes and told 
him I had done the task I had miserably failed 
to do. It is, withal, a somber picture, for 


[132] 


DULCINE 


Dulcine was her mother’s girl in face and 
figure, and her dress that night was dark as the 
twilight beneath her lashes or the midnight of 
her hair. 

It is a picture portraying not only a girl of 
grace and beauty, but a woman of magnetic 
power, a woman to dare and do, and make 
others like herself. I would have wondered 
that Colonel Oranoff could take those startling 
words at full face value, had I not seen the firm, 
true lips, the steadfast eyes of the one who ut- 
tered them and believed them to be true. See- 
ing this, I wondered not that the man turned 
upon his heel without a word, as though he had 
just looked into the very Sarcophagus itself. 

But the effect of the girl’s words and all the 
depth of their deceit was even more marked 
upon the man who lay on the bed before her. 
And as I looked covertly upward for the brief 
second during which the film of my memory 
was exposed to this picture, I became thrilled 
until every unstrung nerve throbbed and then 
was steeled. I saw more clearly than before 
our terrible plight, and saw my duty clearer too. 
Yet through the vision there came courage 
and to spare! 


[ 133 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

But now — when I was in too deep to get 
out, when it was too late even to consider own- 
ing up to the truth — I found that the King 
himself must look into that empty casket and 
close with his own thin hand its golden lid. 

I met this new shock with far greater cour- 
age than any preceding one ; now I was driven 
only one dye deeper; a form resembling a 
human body must meet the King’s eyes ! 

I arose, smiling grimly, from the bed upon 
which I had fallen with a groan. There was 
something ridiculous in this resolution which 
was the logical end of my deception, and the 
reckless daring of it fascinated me. 

“ There ’s but a step between the sublime and 
the ridiculous,” I quoted soberly as I dressed for 
dinner; “ I shall diminish that distance by half 
before morning.” My shoulder was very lame, 
but otherwise I felt able to resume my accus- 
tomed place in the life of the Legation. At any 
rate, I knew that my new plans would necessitate 
my going out ; I was only preparing for emer- 
gencies. 

The ladies had not returned from their sight- 
seeing, and I was spared playing hero ; I made 
way with the courses as rapidly as practicable 
[i34] 


DULCINE 


against their return. But I did not leave 
the room without first placing a note under 
Dulcine’s ring, encouraging one of the table- 
boys with a coin to see that she did not miss 
it. I also left word with Dejneff that I would 
be ready for duty as usual in the morning. I 
saw he was not sorry to be able to depend upon 
me to command the troops around the bier ; 
for he was to march with the King, and 
Andorph was to guard the Mausoleum through- 
out the night and day. I also saw that Dejneff 
would not cry either when this pageant was 
over safely ! 

Then I went out into the night and made 
my way to the Bell House, to the great booths 
where the best of native garments were for sale, 
taking Pak for a guide and interpreter. I told 
him on the way what I wanted. 

Soon we were being shown a large assort- 
ment of fine silk outer garments worn by the wo- 
men of Quelparte. Pak’s eyes glistened as the 
great pieces of silk were thrown by the cunning 
hand of the merchant before our eyes. I of 
course knew nothing of them, not even their 
quality, but as this was the only thing about 
which I cared I asked Pak concerning it. 

[ 135 1 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ He says they are good enough to bury the 
Queen in,” replied Pak, simply, after a word or 
two with the merchant. 

That was as good as I wanted. 

Once more in my room I dismissed Pak with 
a stern injunction as to secrecy and enough 
silver to make him quite the reverse. Then I 
turned eagerly to my task. 

Now, it is trite beyond hope of excuse to 
remark that some things seem difficult near by 
which, at a distance and off-hand, seem ex- 
ceedingly easy. I remember with what force 
this conclusion was impressed upon me that 
night at the Russian Legation in Quelparte, 
where I attempted to carry out my resolution 
of making a counterfeit queen to replace the 
real Queen that I had lost on Lynx Island. 

For a time I walked around my bed, which 
was loaded with the silks Pak had deposited 
there at my order. Then I sat down and pawed 
them over gingerly, while the truth of the afore- 
mentioned observation came home to me with 
added emphasis. Now and then I “got to- 
gether,” to use a phrase more expressive to some 
than to others, and made a fresh start; but 
everything I got my hands on next seemed 
[ 136 ] 


DULCINE 


the most absurdly impossible thing to begin 
with. 

Finally I despaired of doing anything with 
my material en masse , when the creditable idea 
occurred to me to sort out the articles and 
hang them where I could get a more compre- 
hensive notion of their shape and size; and 
soon chairs, bed-posts, tables, pictures, and 
mantel were alive with the fantastic robes of a 
wealthy Quelpartienne. 

It looked as though I was drying a “ big 
week’s washing.” I locked the door, and sat 
down in the one empty chair and lit a 
cigarette. 

“ Peradventure these were the silks of the 
women of mine own country,” I soliloquized 
grimly, “ I might make some progress,” and I 
gazed about helplessly enough ; yet I knew 
that any good, single man of sense would have 
bolted the whole thing even then. But I could 
not bolt, and the danger of my situation came 
suddenly home to me as I looked mechanically 
at my watch and found the evening was far 
gone. How fast the hours were speeding ! 

Aroused now to my task with freshening 
fear, I was seized with the hallucination that a 
[ 137 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

subdivision of my stock would help unravel the 
mystery, and I strode frantically up and down 
to select, at first, the smaller garments. But 
where were they ? The silk creation on the 
bed would have covered a span of horses, 
and the gauze scarf or fish-net or what-not 
that trailed over my dresser, some chairs, and a 
table, would have hidden two French windows. 
If I found anything of lesser dimensions, I had 
no sooner got it under control than I discov- 
ered it was connected by a tail or silk isthmus 
to some greater affair near by that might have 
been an awning over a ship’s deck. Nor was 
it easier to get free of these things than to get 
hold of them, for when I had lain one down 
and gone elsewhere in my search, I found the 
last two things I had looked at were still fol- 
lowing me about familiarly enough. The tex- 
ture of this collection of Quelpartienne cloth- 
ing may have been all I have since heard it 
was and all that its cost suggested, but this 
only served to bewilder me the more that 
night. 

And so I floundered up and down in that 
sea of Quelpartienne lingerie which, by mid- 
night, was running high in that wild room, 
[ 138 ] 


DULCINE 


when a low knock at my door brought a fright- 
ened sigh of relief to my lips. With one de- 
spairing glance about me I broke over to the 
door and threw it open wide. I had made no 
progress whatever, and the night was half 
spent; in a doubly serious sense I needed 
Dulcine now. 

In walked Colonel Oranoff. 

I gasped in dismay while those serious eyes 
ran over that disordered room, lingering with 
awkward, questioning glance on each piece of 
Quelpartienne finery. 

“ Has the hospital become an asylum ? ” 
Oranoff asked quietly. I laughed and gave 
some answer which he can remember better 
than I. Then I went to him with the inspira- 
tion which had suddenly come to my distracted 
brain. I dared not be silent one moment 
before this man, and I risked everything by 
delivering myself earnestly of the following 
impromptu explanation: 

“ Colonel Oranoff,” I said, in a low voice, 
“you know our great danger is an attack by 
Tuen’s men upon the funeral procession. I 
have spent the day planning to frustrate the 
attack if made. My plan is to place a counter- 
[ 139 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

feit body in the Sarcophagus and put the real 
body in the casket prepared for the memorial 
tablets. The army will surround the Sarcopha- 
gus, and if that is harmed the Queen’s body 
will still be safe.” 

Even as I spoke I wondered if, after all, 
Colonel Oranoff had not gone to the Throne 
Room to prove for himself the miraculous truth 
Dulcine had told him. But if he had, he had 
let the matter pass, and I was sure either he 
was deceived or had chosen to let me play out 
the farce to which I had so desperately resorted 
at the eleventh hour. 

There are times when the best of men pass 
back and forth a black lie knowingly, and act 
toward each other as though it were the truth ; 
might not this sober man have guessed even 
from the first my lying role, and yet determined 
to trust me and let me play it out ? Such were 
my thoughts as I spoke and as the man looked 
at me intently yet kindly when I had finished. 

“ That is a good plan, Robert,” he said, after 
a moment’s thought; then he added poign- 
antly, “ But you will need Dulcine in this. 
I will call her and remain in the smoking-room 
until you are done.” He did not say that he 
[ Ho] 


DULCINE 


knew I expected Dulcine ; he did not hint that 
he had seen Dulcine. Yet he paved the way 
easily for our meeting. 

There were tears of gratitude in my aching 
eyes as he passed me to go out, and I found 
his hand in the skirts of his coat and wrung it 
silently. The pressure he in turn gave me 
brought confidence and determination. 

Dulcine came in almost as her father passed 
out, and stood for a moment in blank astonish- 
ment within that littered room. Without a 
word (my throat suddenly became parched) I 
placed a chair before the fire and drew away 
such garments as lay near it. The girl did not 
move. I then went to her unmindful of the 
stolid Cossack who had followed her in, and 
took her hand. 

Then I saw she was already in tears, and I 
quickly found they were hot and running fast. 

“ Robert, dear,” she said, under my trembling 
caresses, “ tell me what it is. There is nothing 
I would not do to help you.” 

I drew her to the chair. Each moment since 
Dulcine entered my door I had felt guiltier 
than ever before. I had failed everywhere, and 
I seemed to be able to do naught but force the 

[ 141 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

girl whom I loved to bear the burden of my 
failure. Now, when the moment came for me 
to make a clean breast of it all, my throat 
seemed paralyzed. 

Yet there in the firelight I told it all, — God 
helping me, — all, the whole story, from the 
tiger-skin throne where we bade each other 
good-bye to the holocaust on Lynx Island, and 
back again to the yellow throne where I had 
honestly attempted to tell the King a little of 
the truth. Now and then Dulcine started, 
frightened; at times she clung to me in utter 
fear, and again she buried her face in her 
hands. But at the end she grew wondrously 
calm. 

We sat then in silence, and I knew she had 
gone from the gloomy past to the dark future, 
and so I outlined briefly the ruse I had con- 
ceived. The plan was as fascinating as the 
recklessness of its deceit. My words fairly 
raised the girl to her feet. Trembling hand 
and foot, Dulcine looked at the fire, at me, and 
then, like a guilty person, around the dimly 
lighted room. We both looked into the fire 
and then steadily into each other’s eyes. I am 
sure the same thoughts passed through our 
[ 142] 


DULCINE 


minds. To-night (for it was the nineteenth, 
the booming of the Great Bell had sounded the 
midnight hour) the King would look upon his 
Queen for the last time, as the Sarcophagus lay 
in state on the great catafalque in the Throne 
Room. 

“ It is all too late now to prevent or post- 
pone/’ I went on impetuously; “for the sake 
of the Russian protectorate about to be an- 
nounced in the morning, for the sake of 
Colonel Oranoff, whose reputation is at stake, 
for the sake of my own name and honor, the 
Imperial Funeral must go on over a counter- 
feit body ! ” 

I sat down in a chair, my head in my 
hands. Dulcine stood quiet by herself a mo- 
ment. Finally she whispered : 

“ Robert, you are right. It must all go on 
without quibble. You have done your full 
duty, now let me do mine. I know a woman 
who will play this part for us.” 

This took me utterly by surprise. And yet 
the girl was right. After those hours of strug- 
gling it was plain that my dummy queen would 
be too unreal. Dulcine misunderstood my 
silence. 


[ i43 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“You can trust me, Robert? ” 

It was not lack of trust, God knew, that 
made me hesitate. 

“ You can embalm the body? ” 

“ Apparently.” 

“ You know a woman you can trust ? ” 

“ I do.” 

“ Who would dare to die, if necessary, 
for us ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ You can have the antechamber cleared and 
place her in the Sarcophagus? ” 

The girl steadied her eyes into the fireplace 
and then answered slowly, “You can do that 
for me, Robert, and better than I.” 

Then I paused to think. Dulcine found 
questions to ask in her turn. 

“ And where would the woman be freed ? ” 

“ At the Altar of Spices,” I answered, after a 
moment’s thought. “ At three taps of my scab- 
bard on the Sarcophagus let her raise the lid 
within, and I will slide the cover. Until then 
let her move not.” 

“ At five o’clock the body will be lying at 
the end of the hall leading to the antecham- 
ber of the Throne Room, behind the curtains 
[ i44 ] 


DULCINE 

of the alcove. You will place it where it 
belongs.” 

I offered Dulcine the chair again, and she 
took it, and we sat many minutes in silence, 
thinking. 

Anon we spoke of dangerous possibilities 
and discussed them rapidly in low tones. I 
asked Dulcine once more of her purpose, and 
again she gently chided my lack of faith in 
her, and I said no more. I then told her that 
my own command would guard the bier on the 
long journey to the Mausoleum. More than 
once the possibility of her being betrayed oc- 
curred to me, and I could not help saying: 

“ If your woman plays us false ? ” And I 
spoke slowly, for I hoped the girl would inter- 
rupt me. 

“ Kill her where she lies ! ” Dulcine whis- 
pered, trembling. Evidently the thought of my 
taking the woman's life overcame the girl, for 
she hid her face on my shoulder. Then she 
admitted it was possible that under the terrible 
strain an involuntary movement might be de- 
tected and prove disastrous. But when she 
arose presently, there was no sign of tears in 
her dark, steadfast eyes. I kissed her good- 

io [ 145 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

night; but then she did not go. All our hap- 
piness, even our very lives, it seemed, hung in 
a trembling balance. Dulcine was to join a 
house-party at the British Legation in the 
morning, and attend the funeral with the Lega- 
tion ladies. I knew I might never see her 
again, for accidents happen in desperate games. 

“ When we meet again — ” I said. But I 
could not complete what I had begun. A great 
gulf seemed to yawn between us already. 

“ We will never part, Robert.” 

At last I took her arms from my neck, for 
she clung to me tenderly — as though she were 
praying. Thank God for the tenderness of 
that farewell ! 


[ 146] 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 


AN EARLY MORNING’S TASK 

O NE by one Dulcine Oranoff placed upon 
her arm the scattered pieces of raiment 
that lay about my room, and at last swept 
bravely through the curtains which the Cossack 
sentry held aside for her. 

That was a picture worth remembering ! A 
lithe, comely girl in black, her arms laden 
with a Quelpartienne’s filmy white wardrobe, 
going frankly and swiftly to that task she had 
impetuously struck out for herself. I let her 
go willingly, though aching yet that my failure 
had brought her this wild night’s work. Mind, 
I never once doubted Dulcine OranofFs ability 
or daring; I only regretted that things had 
come to such a wretched pass. I knew she 
would find her woman (I made a shrewd guess 
as to which servant it was) and I knew the 
woman would surely play the part. But I 
knew, too, that Dulcine would be in terror for 
[ 147 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

forty hours until I had freed the woman at the 
Altar of Spices. 

Keyed up to the wild business of the night, 
I could not sleep, and no sooner had the orders 
of the day been issued than I sent for mine. 
For a long time I studied them and the general 
proclamation which was sent with them touch- 
ing the pageant of the night. It was all as I 
hoped: Dejneff had ordered me with the best 
troops to guard, through the whole day, the 
main entrance of the King’s wing, and to close 
in about the Sarcophagus when it was brought 
from the Throne Room. Dejneff was in general 
command, and rode near the King. Andorph 
was at the Mausoleum. 

Thus I killed an hour in living over the day 
to come ; then I got into my uniform, and 
calling a boy who could speak English I went 
out into the night which was, even now, grow- 
ing pale at the thought of day. 

I shall hereinafter try the reader’s patience 
with the description of Keinning on the night 
of the Imperial Funeral ; therefore I will make 
shorter work with the city as I saw it now, — 
awaiting, with fevered dreams, the great day 
now dawning. Yet it is no less worthy his 
[ 148 ] 


AN EARLY MORNING'S TASK 

attention. The city slept, and yet did not 
sleep. The braying of asses tied about the 
new palace, where the King’s Cabinet was in 
session, kept that portion of the city awake ; 
the Great Bell had aroused all who slept at the 
center of the city with its booming at midnight, 
and no one found his rest again ; at all the 
gates the cantering hoofs of horses and the 
tread of the many weary sandaled feet of 
belated pilgrims kept those portions astir; 
there were thousands now in Keinning who 
‘could not find room nor roof. These sat and 
smoked and slept wherever and whenever they 
could, — getting up in their shaggy white gar- 
ments from an hundred unexpected places, and 
wandering aimlessly out and back again. In 
passing only to the Barracks I met scores walk- 
ing to and fro, seeking protected corners in 
which to lie, their arms shoved well up into their 
loose sleeves, — the Quelpartien method of 
keeping warm. If any of these (save the propor- 
tion who were pleasantly drunk) were awake, it 
was the unfortunates who not infrequently 
collided and jammed into each other’s throats 
the long pipes they smoked. One poor in- 
ebriate we passed had fallen on a, doorway 
L 149] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

while tacking around a corner and driven his 
two-foot pipe clean through the back of his 
neck. At another house a countryman had 
fallen asleep on a doorstep ; as we came by, a 
wandering fellow-rustic pulled him gently from 
the haunted threshold upon the ground beside 
it — where the Devil could not “sting him in 
his dreams,” according to my boy. 

Near the little gate we passed the belated 
cavalcade of the Governor of Chal-dong, who 
had arrived the evening before. This worthy 
Governor was notorious for a rapid rise to his 
place of prominence, the secret of which my 
boy Kell told me as we passed on down the 
wide avenue. 

When a mere lad the Governor of Chal- 
dong determined to leave his home in the little 
mountain village where his parents lived, and 
go to the capital and take the examinations 
for a government position. 

The boy studied as he journeyed, scarcely 
looking about him until he reached the Great 
Buddha, — an immense stone image of great 
height. Upon the Idol’s head, which towered 
into the skies, he saw the famous pear-tree, 
and the one fine pear upon it which the youth 
[ 150] 


AN EARLY MORNING’S TASK 


of his land had vainly striven to secure for 
years and generations. 

As the boy scanned the ragged stone side of 
the Idol’s jaws and cheeks, and the precipice 
of the straight forehead (at the base of which 
hundreds had been killed), he wondered that 
no one had endeavored to find another course 
to the top of the head. The path around the 
ear to the base of the precipice of the forehead 
was deeply worn — but that precipice had 
never been scaled. 

As Song Do (for such was the lad’s name) 
sat looking upward, thinking of the high posi- 
tion in the Government the first possessor of 
the pear was prophesied to reach, his eyes 
rested with fascinating intentness upon the 
great black gorges of the Idol’s nose. Had 
no one sought a passageway to the head 
through those great caverns ? The idea was 
soon burning Song Do’s brain, and, eating the 
dried fruit he carried, and otherwise lightening 
himself by throwing off his flowing white cloak, 
he was soon threading with feverish haste the 
worn path which led to the steep ascent up the 
Idol’s side. 

It was like climbing the steepest hillside in 
[i5i] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

his native mountains, and the muscles hardened 
by mountain-climbing through all the years of 
his boyhood were now put to their stiffest task. 
Large clusters of bushes were growing wher- 
ever there had been earth enough to catch and 
nourish wind-strewn seeds. Those nearest the 
path were worn by the hands of thousands of 
aspirants as high in hope and as excited by 
glowing dreams as Sang Do. Then he stopped 
to rest and look down ; the Image had now 
lost its accustomed figure, and from his high 
perch the boy could identify no feature save 
only the two great caverns of the nose above 
him. On these he kept his eyes, and, when 
the great path turned away from them, he left 
it and began to pick out a new and dangerous 
course. 

Thus he approached slowly into the dark 
cave on the right. Here he found the stone 
sides were not smooth, as he feared they might 
be, but rough and as easy to mount as the sides 
of the Image without. And when he stopped 
a moment to rest, he looked upward and 
thought he saw a dim light, as though there 
actually existed an opening to the top of the 
head ! This awoke all his tired muscles and 
[ 152 ] 


AN EARLY MORNING’S TASK 


on he scrambled, up through toward the light. 
Then suddenly a terrific wind burst through 
the gorge carrying poor Song Do with it 
His climbing in the nose had made the great 
stone god sneeze ! 

But when the bruised lad came to conscious- 
ness, he found that the giant’s sneeze had 
loosened the pear which lay in the road beside 
him ; and the Quelpartiens still say, “ It ’s a 
bad wind that blows not good for some one.” 

We had journeyed to the Great Bell and 
were now back at the Barracks, and, as I went 
forward to get the son of old Ling to help me, 
I thought of our own adage so like the Quel- 
partiens’ ; but of all the ill winds of which I 
knew, what wind blew good for me? 

Once in the officers’ quarters I ordered out 
my troops and sent for Kim Ling. A strong, 
sober youth of perhaps eight and twenty 
answered my summons. I was pleased even 
the moment I looked upon him. The quiet, 
grave face assured me that the father had not 
misjudged the son. I told the lad of his 
father’s prayer to me, and of my words to the 
King. The youth drew from his breast an 
appointment he had just received. It was 
[ 153 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

that of Secret Chief Guardian of the Queen. 
He had been informed of his father’s death 
and that he was raised to his father’s position. 
Just what that position was he had not, as yet, 
been informed, though he was to begin duty 
the day of the funeral, — to-morrow. Mean- 
time he was under my control and — as I 
admired his stolid presence and sober intelli- 
gence — I ordered him to accompany me. I 
needed aides then, if ever! 

I marched my company to the Russian 
Legation, halting at the entrance of the King’s 
wing. Entering, I ordered the antechamber 
of the Throne Room to be cleared. The 
Sarcophagus stood in the center of the darkened 
room. As the last eunuch disappeared, I led 
Lieutenant Kim to the curtained alcove. 

There lay a figure in gray cerements, still 
and rigid, on the floor. Kim raised it and bore 
it to the antechamber and placed it in the 
Sarcophagus. Instantly the room became heavy 
with the sickening odor of spices and balsam. 
But as I turned away a figure in spotless white 
stood at my shoulder. 

It was the King. 


[ U4] 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 


THE KING 


HAT may have seemed to Whang-Su 



V V abject obeisance was little less than a 
swoon, for, though I sank to my knees, the 
action was wholly due to the weak condition 
of my nerves, suddenly unstrung at the sight of 
His Majesty. 

It was a moment before the King spoke, but 
a moment long enough for me to determine to 
hold fast to the hand we were playing until 
I knew it had been exposed. I rose with 
clinched teeth and hands, even saluting with a 
closed fist. I placed one hand irreverently on 
the Sarcophagus, and I had a dagger in it. If 
our woman played her part poorly, through 
fright or hysteria, I was determined that her 
genuine corpse should grace the occasion ! 

The King’s first word, spoken in that jaunty, 
leering tone with which I was familiar, dis- 
pelled my fears, and I breathed a prayer of 
thanksgiving. 


[i55] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ I slipped in, Captain Martyn, while the 
room was cleared. I like cleared rooms.” 

I wondered if the King of Quelparte was 
ever serious. “ 1 was taking a turn before 
bedtime,” he went on, after laughing covertly at 
his own jest, “ and heard you were here. I 
want to thank you for ably completing Colonel 
Li’s mission.” 

He was looking at the Sarcophagus now, 
and my hand curled tightly over the blade it 
obscured from view. 

“ But permit me to warn as well as thank. 
The announcement — ” 

He paused again until I nodded significantly. 

“Yes, this announcement. It may make 
trouble. You should be on your guard. Cer- 
tain so-called patriots, imbibing your Eastern 
ideas, pose as statesmen and breathe revolu- 
tionary sentiments. Usually they only breathe 
— sometimes more. But, more or less, be on 
your guard.” 

I bowed. For a moment there was utter 
silence in the room save for the pounding of 
my heart. What if the King should come to 
the Sarcophagus? I determined to block his 
way even at the risk of my life. I would say 

C !S6] 


THE KING 


my orders were to let no one look upon the 
body, and that I should obey the order literally 
at any cost. Our game had cost too much to 
be broken up now. And the woman, maybe, 
had heard the conversation. I feared for her 
if she thought the King’s own eyes were rest- 
ing on her. 

But instead of coming nearer, the King 
moved backward to the wall and beckoned me 
to his side. 

For the first time in his life, for all I knew, 
Whang-Su’s face was serious. He had pro- 
duced his cigarette box and offered one to me 
and lighted his own from my plebeian match. 

It was not until after two or three ner- 
vous puffs and a spasmodic inhalation that His 
Majesty spoke. 

“You had no trouble?” he then asked 
swiftly. 

“ No, Sire,” I answered. 

The King looked long into my face and I 
thought I could see a pathetic thing there, — 
the questioning look of one to whom the real 
truth is never told. But I lied on right and 
left, and the King believed all I said. And 
his face grew more serious still. I thought 
L i57 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

perhaps I could venture a probe or two, and so 
I too went straight to center by saying : 

“ You were fearing Prince Tuen ; Colonel Li 
told me.” 

He started and put his finger to his lips. 
But then he laughed and whispered : 

“Yes; the old boar has been trying to find 
her,” and he jerked his thumb toward the 
golden casket. “ But we fooled him,” added 
the King, with his only English oath and a 
chuckle. 

Here was my chance. 

“ And would your Majesty fear the myth if 
he had destroyed the Queen’s body ? ” 

To hell with the myth,’ as Oranoff says — 
no; but the people would; oh, the people!” 
and the King held up his hands with an ex- 
pression of pity I cannot describe. 

Now, if I had thought Whang-Su would look 
thus upon the matter, I should certainly have 
told him the whole truth before undertaking 
the stupendous deception now on hand. But 
it was too late. I could have confessed failure 
and Tuen’s success, but I would not confess to 
this deceit. It would lay bare the whole string 
of my lies for one thing, and, after all, the King 
[ US] 


THE KING 


might fear the myth more than he had con- 
fessed. At any rate, we should have to deceive 
every one else and he was only one more. So 
I held my peace. 

But the King was still serious and worried, 
as could be seen with half an eye. Again I 
jumped to a conclusion: 

“You fear Tuen yet?” I suggested. 

He blew a cloud of smoke, looked at me 
gravely through it, and nodded. 

“ I shall fear him until she ” — blowing a 
straight column of smoke toward the Sarcoph- 
agus — “ is in the tomb, and the great tablet 
has fallen upon her.” 

“ Faugh ! ” I exclaimed, “ trust that to us, 
Sire; your best troops will surround the bier 
at all times. It is safer than ever it was at 
Lynx Island.” I could tell the truth — at 
times. 

The name suggested other things of which 
he wished to ask. 

“ Ling and Li were both lost ? ” he asked 
suddenly. 

“ Both.” He looked at me searchingly now, 
and I was ready with more lies. “ The fire 
was premature.” 

[ 159 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ H — 11,” exclaimed the King, smoking furi- 
ously ; but then he laughed : 

“ Old Ling was a fox.” 

That was all. With one glance at the Sar- 
cophagus, he went to the door, where his body- 
guard instantly surrounded him again. 

Throughout the long day preparations for 
the event of the night went on. The city was 
crowded with countrymen, and troops were 
needed everywhere. Nobles and rural gov- 
ernors with their attendants kept pouring 
through the gates, with the throngs of com- 
moner type from every portion of the king- 
dom, — all anticipating keenly the great event 
“ treasured up in talk and dreams ” since the 
death of their Queen. At sundown the Great 
Bell of Keinning would be struck for the initial 
ceremony in the Throne Room, when the King 
would close the glass lid and draw on the 
golden cover. Then the march to the tomb 
would begin. 

I had hurried to the Japanese quarter of the 
city to quell, with a show of Cossacks, a slight 
irruption in the never-ending feud between the 
Japanese and the Quelpartiens, and was return- 
ing to the Barracks when Lieutenant Kim 
[ 160 ] 


THE KING 


came to meet me with a note given him by a 
Legation boy who had hunted for me futilely 
all day. 

I tore it open and read : 

Remember the Altar of Spices and the Signal of the 
Scabbard. Fora day lam Queen of Quelparte incognito . 

D. 

I sat utterly speechless on my horse. With 
Kim’s own hands he had laid Dulcine Oranoff 
in the Queen’s Sarcophagus ! 

Dazed, I cursed myself for a fool for thinking 
Dulcine would have intrusted such a secret to 
another. The degree in which she had de- 
ceived me testified to the degree in which I 
trusted her, — for what more is love than faith, 
after all ? 

I hurried Kim to the Barracks to bring my 
troops, and I set off at a gallop for the Lega- 
tion. I rode as though I could undo what 
had been done. Perhaps in my bewildered 
state of mind I believed I could. If so, the 
idle thought was suddenly banished from my 
mind by the booming of the Great Bell. 

This, I had been told, was to be the signal 
for the King to close the Sarcophagus, — the 

ii [ 161 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

initial ceremony of the Royal Funeral in the 
Throne Room. 

Now every fear I had became tenfold fear- 
ful, and every danger seemed tenfold danger- 
ous. Things which before had seemed trifles 
or had not been considered at all became gi- 
gantic with terrible possibilities. Was there 
sufficient breathing room in that glittering cell 
in which I had left Dulcine ? Would not the 
journey of three miles to the tomb over those 
rough streets in a cart cause her to faint and 
then suffocate. If the King was still fearful 
of the dreaded Tuen, why was I so brave? 
Were there not possibilities of danger of which 
I had not dreamed ? I had really taken little 
definite thought about freeing the woman at 
the Altar of Spices as I had so heedlessly 
promised. Would this be possible? Would 
the Sarcophagus be veiled from sight or be 
exposed to the view of all the people ? 

As I dashed forward, these and a hundred 
other questions drove the hot blood to my 
head. 


[162] 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 

A QUEEN INCOGNITO 

B UT the beginning of the pageant, the 
crowds of people, the holiday skillfully 
prepared, came none too soon ! The govern- 
ment “ Gazette,” published at noon, announced 
the agreement reached between the King of 
Quelparte and the Czar of Russia. It was dip- 
lomatically stated that, for reasons best under- 
stood by the people of Quelparte, Russia, out of 
the kindness of her great heart, had assumed, for 
the moment, at the request of the King of Quel- 
parte and his Cabinet, the management of the 
financial, commercial, and military departments 
of the kingdom. This was done from two human- 
itarian motives : to take some of the burden from 
the King’s shoulders, and to bring Quelparte 
into such a relation to Russia that she might 
share her civil and commercial advantages. 

As I struggled on through the thoroughfares, 
these papers were now getting into general 

L 163 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

circulation. Many who could not read were 
gathered at the corners of the streets, where 
men of commanding stature and voice read 
the proclamation aloud. Here and there single 
white-robed citizens were reading it apart by 
themselves. Some, whose angry faces showed 
plainly their bitterness, were crushing the white 
pages and growling aloud. Others were fold- 
ing the sheets and placing them thoughtfully 
in their garments for future perusal and study. 
Inside the houses I heard loud talking, and 
now and again I could see through the black 
doorway a white-robed orator angrily issuing 
an invective before other inmates who sat 
silently on their heels listening. 

But it was a nation’s holiday, and the Rus- 
sian ruse held good! Holiday clothes, an 
abundance of regalia and drink, and a national 
conscience drugged to indifference by centuries 
of oppression, — all these had their influence, 
and the patriot orators shouted in vain. They 
were as powerless as rats in a doomed ship 
which they can no more save than leave, — 
though running speedily toward a maelstrom 
of Russian despotism. 

Behind the scenes all had been working well. 

[ ib4] 





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9 -s*,? 



W 1 

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A QUEEN INCOGNITO 

If friction showed anywhere, the “ parts ” were 
quickly lubricated with gold roubles and — well, 
the King of Quelparte was shaved. 

But this funeral, which was the saving of 
the Russian plot, was now the wrecking of 
Tuen’s. It made little difference whether 
Russia had Quelparte if the world did not 
know of it, for how then could it be thrown 
over when Port Arthur was taken? And it 
made little difference to the Chinese Prince 
whether the body of the murdered Queen was 
whole or in a thousand pieces if the world did 
not know of it, for how then would the myth 
come true ? Could it be depended upon to 
accomplish its own deathly end without the 
fact of the destruction of the body being 
known ? 

I could not believe the Tuen agents would 
thus trust blindly to this ridiculous old wife’s 
fable. I remembered the King’s face, grave 
and stern ; he was still fearing Tuen ; and 
what could he fear but an interruption of the 
funeral procession ? They certainly knew 
that no Queen’s body was in Keinning ; they 
knew the pageant was a stupendous hoax. 
Yet I did not believe they would interrupt the 

[ 165 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

funeral procession, — since it would be heavily 
guarded, — but I felt sure that by some terrible 
means the crowd would be led to believe it was 
all a sham and demand a sight of the Queen’s 
body. And Dulcine would better be thrown 
to Siberian wolves than be exposed to such a 
multitude maddened by the knowledge of this 
unholy deception. 

My wild ideas galloped on through a host 
of fears and sickening doubts, even as my fine 
charger broke on through the great tides of 
white-robed humanity that blocked his way. 
If I could have confided the terrible danger to 
another, I might have borne my anxieties more 
easily; but I could not. If I could have reached 
one single clear conclusion concerning the next 
move of Tuen’s people, I might have prepared 
to thwart them ; but I could not. It all re- 
solved itself now to a fight for Dulcine’s life 
with an enemy whose power and tactics could 
not be guessed. 

And the King’s fears now increased my own 
an hundred-fold ! 

When I galloped up to the plaza before 
the Legation, I heard the steady tramp of my 
columns, hastened by Kim from the Barracks. 

[166 ] 


A QUEEN INCOGNITO 

I knew my control over them. While the 
ammunition dealt to others might be blank 
cartridges, my men carried heavier shells. The 
men knew it and respected themselves and me 
the more. And we were to surround the bier 
on the march to the tomb. 

We are apt to go to extremes in times of 
trying suspense. As I rode forward at the 
head of these hundreds of well-armed men who 
respected me, I tried to laugh at my fears. 

We drew up in hollow square on the plaza 
before the King’s wing. Within, the ante- 
chamber and the Throne Room were seething 
masses of servants, Royal eunuchs, military offi- 
cers, palace officials, and aides, — all hurrying 
to and fro silently, but, to the eye, in utter 
confusion. Far up the room, before the Throne, 
stood the elaborate catafalque banked with 
lotus leaves and chrysanthemums. Upon it 
lay the magnificent Sarcophagus glittering and 
resplendent in the swinging lights. Around it 
moved three stalwart eunuchs in gorgeous ap- 
parel. To it my eyes ran, and on it they rested 
long. 

It seemed as if I had not begun to realize 
Dulcine’s situation before. As I looked over 

[ 167] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

the heads of the concourse of people upon her 
glittering cell I groaned in anguish. For 
twelve hours she had lain as one dead, without 
a crumb of food or a drop of water to moisten 
the parched lips. But the physical strain was 
nothing, perhaps, to the mental. With eyes 
bound over with flaxen bands she could not 
know whether she was plain in view or com- 
pletely screened from the gaze of the people. 

Was a woman ever so placed? A sneeze 
or cough might cost her a fathers and a lover’s 
reputation and doubtless her own life too. 
And yet I could have trusted no one else there 
as I could the dauntless, stern Dulcine. While 
the perspiration streamed from my face I sank 
on a chair, my head in my shaking hands, and 
prayed God to guide and guard. 

A roll of drums brought me to my feet. 
The King was coming! Impulsively I began 
to press forward to be as near Dulcine as 
possible until my troops could surround her. 
Of the ceremony now begun I knew absolutely 
nothing more than Dulcine herself had told 
me, — that the King was to close the lid of the 
Sarcophagus. I wondered anxiously if the girl 
was right. Would His Majesty attempt to 
[ 1 68 ] 


A QUEEN INCOGNITO 

identify the remains ? This I doubted, since 
they were embalmed. No, that fear was ground- 
less. But fear of Tuen hung over me like the 
sword of Damocles. I felt it might fall any 
moment at the raising of a finger. 

My very audacity in approaching near the 
Sarcophagus was the best credential I could 
have had, and Dejneff’s uniform now stood me 
in good stead, and I advanced unchallenged 
until I could survey the golden, flower-strewn 
casket. 

It seemed strange that I had only given it 
a passing notice before. But how different it 
seemed, now that I knew what a precious 
charge it contained. It was a very long, deep 
case, beautifully ornamented with gold and 
mother-of-pearl inlaid. It measured, as I ran 
my eye over it, perhaps nine feet in length by 
four in depth, and was three feet wide ; the 
great ornamented cover which the King was 
to draw on was hollow, and was at least two 
feet in height. Dulcine could even stand up 
in her golden prison-house. The cover locked 
itself automatically when once shot into place, 
— this much I had ascertained when Kim 
placed Dulcine in it that morning, — and it 
[169] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

could only be opened from within. Thus when 
the King drew the cover on, he locked the 
Queen’s remains in their eternal cell, making 
them proof against all but violence. This was 
the significance of the present ceremony and 
directly pointed to the popular fear of that 
terrible legend of Quelparte. 

Pressing still nearer, I could at least see 
within the flower-strewn casket. Far beneath 
a long glass cover, which lifted on golden 
hinges, a form in musty gray cerements lay 
still and calm. So loose was the upper robe 
that the motion of breathing could not be 
detected. The face, bound closely in flaxen 
bands, seemed calm as in death. As I looked, 
the matchless bravery of the girl overcame me, 
and for a moment I delighted in the daring of 
the farce. 

Amid another roll of drums the procession 
entered the Throne Room, the King saunter- 
ing behind his head eunuchs, and beside him 
walked the Crown Prince. I stepped down 
quickly from my position of vantage on the 
steps ascending to the Throne, and by me as 
I knelt passed the Royal party, the King taking 
his seat upon the Throne. Finally, after an 
[ Uo] 


A QUEEN INCOGNITO 

age of heathen mummery, Whang-Su descended 
the broad steps to the catafalque, dropped the 
glass lid and drew on the golden cover, — 
gracefully, jauntily, as His Majesty did all else. 
The girl lay as dead before him, but I felt sure 
that when the heavy cover shot into place her 
nerves gave way from the terrible strain. I 
was glad the great cover was hollow, allowing 
the prisoner air, for she could raise the glass 
lid herself and sit upright within her magnifi- 
cent cell. 

My heart, too, was in the Queen’s Sarcopha- 
gus, smothered by the dense fragrance of 
flowers and spice. 

As the King passed out, the Imperial watch, 
dressed in the brilliant uniforms of Quelpartien 
army officers, took its stand around the Sar- 
cophagus ; but I saw at once that they were 
gendarmes in disguise. Dejneff v/as with 
them, and I spoke to him as he handed me 
my orders for the night. 

“ Those men are armed ? ” I asked in French. 

“ To the teeth.” 

“ With powder and ball ? ” 

“ Powder, ball, rapier, and dagger,” said the 
man, swiftly, and I saw he, too, sensed trouble 
[ 1 7i ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

in the wind. And he looked at me signifi- 
cantly. 

I did not realize that I looked like a ghost, 
and so I read into his searching glance more 
than he ever meant. But to talk a moment 
with another did me a world of good. 

“ You look for trouble ? ” 

“You look as if you had already seen it,” he 
replied evasively. 

“ How do we get to the Tomb ? ” 

“Through the West Gate; the King’s Trail 
of Earth is laid that way.” 

“ My God, Dejneff, not through the Chinese 
quarter,” I gasped. 

The Russian shrugged his shoulders and 
tapped his orders significantly and then moved 
away. 

With a groan I gave one longing glance at 
the golden Sarcophagus and rushed out into 
the open air. 


[ 172] 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


THE TRAIL OF EARTH 

I QUICKLY made up my mind to go to 
the King and demand a change of the 
route, but I paced up and down in the hollow 
square formed by my companies considering a 
worthy excuse. I did not wish to frighten His 
Majesty, yet, if it lay in my power, the route 
of the procession should be altered. I also 
needed to have an alternate course on my 
tongue’s end ; on this latter point I needed 
help and sent for Lieutenant Kim. 

When he came I pulled him out into the 
dark. 

“ The route of march is out the West Gate ? ” 
I asked. 

“ So the orders read,” answered the youth. 

“ Is there no better way, Kim ? ” 

He looked at me in surprise. 

“ Why better ? ” 

“ Well — safer, then ! ” for I felt I could trust 
this serious lad. 


[ 173 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ Oho ! so you are troubled too,” he said 
thoughtfully : “ there will be few sorry when 
this business is over.” 

“ Answer me,” I ordered ; then I added 
encouragingly, “ I do not like that Chinese 
quarter, Kim.” 

“Nor I ! ” he put in quickly; “it’s dark as 
night.” 

“ You mean — ” 

“ I mean there are no lights burning in it ; 
even our lanterns in the silken nets which line 
the Imperial route have been put out by boys 
who are throwing stones into them.” 

All this chilled me. 

“ But can we go another way ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered Kim, thoughtfully, “ through 
the Little West Gate.” 

“ A roundabout course ? ” 

“ Very.” 

“ But a possible one ? ” 

“ I think so.” 

“ And we could evade that quarter ? ” 

“Entirely — but — ” and Kim looked away 
across the dimly lighted city. 

“But what?” I asked sternly. “Tell me 
anything you know, Kim. I dread going into 
[ i74] 


THE TRAIL OF EARTH 


the Chinese quarter; if we do, I am sure there 
will be the devil to pay.” 

“ The orders are out, and I do not think they 
can be revoked.” 

“ Is that all ? ” 

“ That is all, Captain.” He saluted, and I 
strode on across the plaza toward the King’s 
wing. 

There I ran upon Dejneff, issuing the orders 
of the night to the cavalry officers flaring in 
their great red silk sleeves. 

I called him, and he stepped back into the 
gloom with me. 

“ We must change this route, Dejneff,” and 
1 pointed to the orders. 

“ Why ? ” broke out the old soldier, holding 
his breath. 

“ Because this parading up and down in 
the Chinese quarter is nothing but senseless 
bravado. Look you,” and I pointed toward 
the West Gate, “the whole quarter is in dark- 
ness. Even the boys are pelting the silk 
lanterns with stones. And the commonest 
coolie knows Prince Tuen would rather miss 
the tribute from a dozen Quelpartes than have 
that tablet dropped over the Queen’s corpse. 
[ i75 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

If, as the King has said, he ‘has pawed Quel- 
parte over for her,’ do you think he will let 
us carry her body safely through a thirty- 
foot street in a Chinese city at midnight 
unopposed ? ” 

With now and then a grunt of a Russian 
oath the old warrior listened to me to the end, 
and then stood looking away across the city 
toward that black spot on the horizon. 

I saw he was moved, so I did not press him. 
At last he spoke, and softly, for him. 

“You mean go out the Little West Gate,” 
he mused, nursing a knuckle in his beard. 
“ It would be roundabout, and a more difficult 
journey ; there would be some rough bridges 
to cross, and the cart the coffin travels in might 
come to grief.” He was talking to himself — 
only incidentally to me. 

Then suddenly he answered as though he 
had not spoken a word before : “ Now, Martyn, 
I don’t like this more than you ; but it ’s too 
late to change the orders. This circus is a 
mighty big affair, and everything is located 
with reference to the route selected. More, the 
route has only been known for an hour or two, 
so they — er, well, no one could have planned 
[ Ub] 


THE TRAIL OF EARTH 


much of a — er — attack. Suppose we go down 
on our own responsibility and order the coolies 
around from the Chinese quarter and let them 
line the course to the Little West Gate. It 
will seem as though the line of march had been 
changed. At the last moment they can hasten 
to their former places.” 

I doubt if old Dejneff ever made so long a 
speech before, and I doubt if he ever will make 
a longer one again. It was plain he was 
greatly influenced, and equally plain, now, that 
his plan was the best that could be adopted at 
this last moment. So I urged him to give the 
order ; he did so, and I started to return. But 
as I went my old doubts came back in flood- 
tide. With the route now marked to the 
Little Gate, why not try the King, after all ? 

I knew something, now, of Tuen’s despera- 
tion — aye, more than any living man. And 
Dulcine’s life was at stake ! 

Involuntarily I pushed through the crowds 
to the King’s antechamber and asked a pass- 
ing eunuch for the King. He pointed me to 
another eunuch who understood English. 

“ He is in the Mourning Chamber,” the latter 
replied. 


[ i77] 


THE QUEEN OF QUEL PARTE 

“ I must see him,” I said with a significant 
gesture. 

“ Cherum!” he exclaimed in the vernacular. 
“ He worships in the Mourning Chamber until 
the march to the Tomb, Captain.” 

I moved impatiently. 

“ Can you get my name to one of the 
eunuchs of the Mourning Chamber?” 

“ I can do that,” the man answered. He 
took it and left. Since the King had deigned 
to recognize and counsel me in the Throne 
Room, I did not believe he would refuse me a 
hearing at this time. 

Nor was I wrong, for in a few moments 
the man returned and beckoned me to fol- 
low. 

I went on through a maze of smaller rooms, 
being conducted by one official after another, 
each more elaborately dressed than the other, 
until a last door was opened from within. 

I entered, and there stood the King. When 
he saw me he turned and waved his hand 
behind him, and two female inmates of his 
household went giggling into a further room. 
The place was thick with cigarette smoke. 

Thus Whang-Su worshipped in the Mourn- 
[ US] 


THE TRAIL OF EARTH 

in g Chamber during the last hours before the 
Imperial Funeral! 

Yet the King’s eyes grew serious as he bade 
me enter, and I knew he had not thought I 
asked Audience for nothing. I decided before I 
saw him to come straight to the point. There 
was little time in which to make changes, how- 
ever great the despatch. 

“Sire, is the Trail of Earth to be laid 
through the West Gate?” 

“ I believe so,” he answered blandly. 

“ Through the Chinese quarter ? ” 

To this he nodded while he drew at his 
cigarette. “ What ! ” he then cried through a 
cloud of smoke ; “ you laughed at my fears 
in the Throne Room and, boasted of our 
strength.” He saw my point quickly, at 
least ! 

I did not tell him what I thought. It was 
another kettle of fish now that I knew who was 
in that golden Sarcophagus. 

“ But strong as we are, Sire, is it not fool- 
hardy to tempt Prince Tuen unnecessarily?” 

Then I told the King of the situation in the 
Chinese quarter and of Dejneff’s plan. He 
seized upon that instantly. 

[ i79] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ The ruse is good, and it is all we can do ; 
the old palace is on the road to the Little 
Gate,” he added ; and I realized that he could 
not order the funeral pageant to pass the spot 
where the Queen was murdered. 

As I moved away the King looked at me 
thoughtfully; then suddenly he stepped forward. 

“ I have ordered that your company surround 
the bier on its journey; be watchful and do 
not spare the lead.” Then he added with 
something of his old swagger, and a fresh 
cloud of cigarette smoke to frame it in, “ There 
will be promotions for this night’s work, 
Martyn.” 

I saluted and went back slowly to the plaza. 
I had accomplished little or nothing; yet Dej- 
neff’s ruse was a good one and must be trusted 
now. 


[ i3o] 


CHAPTER NINETEEN 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 

T HE aspect of the heathen city had been 
wonderful by day. The great crowds, 
the flying pennons and banners, this nation 
on a holiday, was a sight never to be for- 
gotten, unless one had seen the night which 
followed, — this nation on a holinight. 

The crowd became more dense as the sun 
went down. To the quarter of a million in- 
habitants was now added a visiting quarter of a 
million. Cities and towns were deserted for 
a space fifty miles around. The gates of the 
city had been crowded all day, the grinning 
monkeys on their gables admitting governors 
and beggars, dukes and mountebanks, priests 
and criminals, indiscriminately, from seashore, 
mountain, and valley. 

The sight presented by this half-million 
people was indescribable. The absence of 
lights made the appearance of the city doubly 
[181] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

significant, for there were no lights save the 
candle each man carried in a little paper lan- 
tern, for the moon shone only fitfully. 

And so there was light, — a burning glare, 
but low down as a man’s knee. From where 
I stood on the plaza of the Legation it seemed 
that the city was illuminated by red-hot pave- 
ments, a ruddy glare distinctly marking the 
direction of all the main avenues. 

The sound of this moving host was inde- 
scribable. The hard limestone streets were 
covered with tiny pebbles which rolled and 
crunched under each falling foot. What was 
the tumult arising from a million moving feet? 
It was a sound unknown even to the sea. It 
was not the continual grind of gigantic glaciers. 
It was like nothing that ever met my ears. I 
stood entranced a space, looking on those streets 
of flame, and listening to the murmur of that 
million of sandaled feet. 

My orders were to flank the Imperial route 
from the Legation to the center of the city, 
where the Great Bell hung. The crowds had 
already divined the route, and this avenue was 
the seething center of the city. It was men’s 
work for my column to plough through to the 
[ 182 ] 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 


Bell, but they went through like men. My lines 
once established on either side the avenue, the 
crowds were admitted, temporarily, between 
them. Here and there along the route elegant 
lanterns were suspended from staves thrust into 
the hard ground. The silken network of each 
was four feet long with a center of red and a 
border of blue at the bottom and top. Within 
each, thus thoroughly protected from the wind, 
a candle burned on a sharp iron finger. 

It may have been nine o’clock when my 
lines were established from the Legation to the 
Great Bell. The funeral procession was ad- 
vertised to start at nine. I was advised to ex- 
pect it promptly three hours later, at midnight. 

For three hours — though they were anxious 
hours — I was an interested spectator of the 
scene before me. Through my lines surged 
the countless throng. Now it was brushed 
lightly aside, as a company of Quelpartien 
infantry trotted down on the double-quick, 
formidable in appearance and sound. No 
sooner was it again in motion, in aimless “ pur- 
suit of happiness,” than a shrill scream rent it 
asunder, as a Quelpartien nobleman on a spot- 
less pony, preceded by busy henchmen, paced 
[ 1 83 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

to his place in the Imperial cortege. A sack- 
cloth Quelpartien hat covered his netted hair. 
A rope an inch in diameter surrounded his 
waist ; another, smaller in size, was caught about 
his hat. Such was the Imperial mourner’s habit. 

Beyond, in the plaza of the Bell, was the 
vortex of the surging human billows which 
were sweeping the city. In that maelstrom, 
peddlers with trays, supported by strings about 
their necks, were reaping a rich reward, and 
thieves a richer. The native soldiers guarding 
the plaza had broken ranks (their officers were 
in the neighboring drinking houses) and were 
seated on the ground nodding before their 
fires of sticks and grass, their rifles stacked 
about them. Gambling being legalized for 
the time, many were playing games of chance. 
Thus the hours dragged on. 

The first sign of the approaching pageant 
was the arousing of the soldiers to clear the 
avenue. It was soldier’s work too. Piercing 
the street in the center, the multitude was 
crowded back to the houses. The forward 
lines were pushed out by those behind, and the 
soldiers pounded the faces of those in the 
rear with the butts of their guns. 

[ 184] 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 


Slowly a way was cleared. In some places 
it was twenty feet in width ; here narrowing, 
there widening. Then, in the center of the 
opening, was laid a thin line of earth, all the 
way from the Russian Legation to the Imperial 
tomb, — for in Quelparte it is beneath the dig- 
nity of the King to walk upon earth that has 
been desecrated by other feet. Thus wherever 
the King goes, fresh earth is strewn which no 
foot may touch until he has passed. 

The sight of this faint trail had a miracu- 
lous effect upon those surging thousands. They 
became quiet and expectant, each suggestion 
of the coming pageant being greeted with de- 
light. Heads of departments began flying 
back and forth on official duties ; a Quelpartien 
general and staff tittupped along the route, in- 
specting, at a proper distance, the line of fresh 
earth, to see that it was laid properly to the 
destination. And when at last the old Ringer 
entered the Bell house and the beam was swung 
twelve times upon the Great Bell, a hush fell 
over the city, and every heart knew the ap- 
pointed hour was at hand. Instantly a Cos- 
sack trumpeter on the balcony of the Russian 
Legation blew his clear signal, and when the 

[185] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

echoes of the bugle had died away in the ravines 
of the mountains, the funeral cortege was in 
motion. 

Believe me, I saw all that I have described. 
Believe me, also, there was not a moment in 
which I was not thinking of Dulcine. It is 
also quite as true that in this crisis my mind 
wandered back over the past week and recalled 
its strange experiences to prove to myself I was 
awake and not dreaming. Again I saw Wun 
Chow and heard the chanting in the Temple of 
Ching-ling, and again the tragedy of that sub- 
terranean vault was enacted. Now I was run- 
ning madly down Lynx Island in the dark ; 
now shouting to a telegraph instrument in 
delirium; now I was walking on from a fallen 
horse through a valley from which the tide had 
just gone, and bargaining for a loaf of bread 
from an unknown friend. Once more I tried 
to tell the King on his throne that Li and 
Ling were lost, and that the Queen’s body was 
still on Lynx Island. I talked with Dulcine 
before the fire ; Kim laid the body in the 
Sarcophagus ; I watched the King draw on the 
great golden cover. If I needed more proof, my 
anxious heart could have given testimony, for 
[186] 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 


I had been subjected to surprises — and no 
sleeper is surprised in his dreaming. 

No, this was not a dream. 

Before the Great Bell struck the hour of 
midnight, I had taken my station at the door 
of the King’s wing. Within the King’s apart- 
ment confusion had reigned during the last 
hour before the pageant started. But without, 
behind the Legation, where the pageant was 
forming, confusion was worse confused. The 
rendezvous of any circus parade is a trivial 
affair compared with what was enacted there. 
For blocks in each direction spread the out- 
landish paraphernalia, — banners, carriages, 
carts, ensigns, flags, shields, lanterns, horses, 
troops, — the most illustrious collection of hor- 
ribles human eye ever viewed : attendants 
fighting for precedence ; coolies struggling to 
maintain position against new-comers; men 
with bannerless poles and men with poleless 
banners, fighting for that which each lacked ; 
horses frenzied with fear; mules richly capar- 
isoned, braying for water, and supervisors of 
the pageant, at their wits’ end, charging about 
reckless of life and limb. 

From this pandemonium of heathendom, I 

[187] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

passed by the guards at the door and entered 
the Throne Room. All was quiet here. In 
the dim light I saw the Imperial watch, stand- 
ing motionless by the catafalque. Though I 
knew they were Cossacks, I went no nearer, for 
there was nothing I could do, however much I 
longed to make my presence known. And so 
I, too, stood watch over her. 

As the night wore on, I became calm and 
resolute. The trying scene in this room, fol- 
lowing immediately upon the receipt of Dul- 
cine’s note, had played havoc with my weakened 
nerves. The cold night air and the exercise 
had strengthened them. 

At the first boom of the Great Bell I went 
out into the plaza and mounted my horse. 
One company in my command which flanked 
the four sides of the plaza was to surround the 
bier and guard it. At the head of this com- 
pany I took my place, as the glittering line of 
the Imperial cortege rounded the further wing 
of the Legation and came slowly by. 

Two Quelpartien dukes on great white horses 
led it. Twisted ropes surrounded their waists 
and hats. Men at their sides bore silken 
banners, some in plain and some in mixed 
[188] 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 


colors, flying on long poles raised high up 
in air. 

All kept wide of the little trail of earth in 
the center of the road. Even the horses seemed 
to know it meant death to step there. 

Then came a host of yellow lanterns — Im- 
perial yellow — borne by coolies for whom it 
was the event of a lifetime, a memory to be 
handed down to children’s children. Behind 
the lantern came prominent Quelpartien gen- 
erals. Immense red plumes fell back from 
their glittering helmets. They wore no sack- 
cloth. Behind them rode a squad of cavalry 
officers in their flowing scarlet sleeves. The 
sleeves of their uniforms are of this color, so 
that, when charging, sword in hand, the spurt- 
ing blood of the enemy will not disfigure their 
apparel to sicken the brain. Then came the 
Royal eunuchs of the palace — in heaviest sack- 
cloth. The splendid horses of the cavalry 
officers were not better than those ridden by 
these Imperial household officials. 

All these went wide of the earthen trail. 

The great guilds of the land were represented 
in the pageant by monstrous banners thirty 
and forty feet in length, borne on veritable 
[ 189] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

masts under which the most powerful men 
staggered painfully but proudly. The banners 
contained tributes to Her Majesty. Streamers 
fastened to the top tended to steady them and 
ease the labors of the bearers. 

The coming of the King was heralded by 
a swarm of yellow banners carried by footmen. 
Behind them a body of Cossacks surrounded 
His Majesty, who was riding a white horse with 
characteristic grace and jauntiness. The white 
stallion walked fairly in the center of the nar- 
row trail of hallowed earth, and proudly, as 
though conscious that before his own dainty 
foot none other had touched it. Whang-Su 
seemed as unconscious of danger as his horse. 
Now and then he talked with Dejneff, who 
rode watchfully behind him, a hand ever at his 
belt. 

Behind the King, at a proper distance, 
swarmed a host of coolies wearing yellow 
coats. On their backs rested a platform made 
of bamboo poles. Upon this rested the covered 
chair used by her to whom this raree-show was 
a tribute. I am sure 1 never saw such a thing 
on the streets of Washington or on the boule- 
vard to Mt. Vernon, but I repeat what the 
[ 190] 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 


honest Kim affirmed, who stood at my elbow 
explaining to me the signification of all the 
insignificance of the passing pageant. The 
four silken sides of the chair were covered with 
bangles representing peacocks’ eyes, which in 
Quelparte are always used to denote the pres- 
ence of the gentler sex. Behind the chair 
came a crowd of coolies bearing yellow silk 
parasols on elongated handles. The fringes 
of these parasols were of rarest lace, and the 
spectacle afforded by their bearers the most 
ridiculous conceivable. 

If Dulcine was enduring a thing no mortal 
was ever doomed to experience before, she was 
certainly missing a spectacle no mortal could 
ever forget. 

Interest now became intense as the resound- 
ing foot-beats on the hard avenue announced 
the coming of the army, in the center of which 
the Royal bier would be borne. Rank after rank 
passed by and in good order, for in the past 
fortnight the troops had been drilled hourly for 
this review. It was plain the result was satis- 
factory to the crowd, if not to the officers. 

But at last the funeral car was caught sight 
of, and the soldiers were forgotten. No sooner 

[ 191 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

was this before the door of the Kings wing 
than the Sarcophagus was borne to it on the 
shoulders of many servants. About it my 
company closed instantly, and we were on our 
way to the Mausoleum after hardly a moment’s 
delay. The rear was brought up by the cav- 
alry Regiments. 

The funeral car in which the Sarcophagus 
was placed would have added renown to any 
procession. It rolled on two great golden 
wheels, being drawn by ropes each fifty feet 
long and in the hands of scores and scores of 
coolies in mourning dress. Upon only those 
nearest the car did the work fall, for a few of 
those in front on either side drew the vehicle, 
and those behind nearest steadied it on an 
incline. All the rest marched proudly, hold- 
ing the slack rope in their hands and gazing 
to the right and to the left. The car was per- 
haps seven feet in height. Above it in the 
center was a great golden ball, an imposing 
crown piece. Its length may have been ten 
feet; its width four. At the corners of the 
fluted roofing, large golden lotus leaves curled 
upward from beneath, and upon them golden 
dragon heads were fastened. From the open 
[ 192 ] 


THE IMPERIAL FUNERAL 


mouths great silken cords hung down, and 
heavy tassels at their ends swept the ground 
twelve feet below. But all this beauty was not 
for the vulgar eye, for beside the car (when 
they could keep up with it) marched tall men 
carrying poles, to which were fastened long 
silken screens to shield the bier from view. 
Before, beside, and behind, came coolies carry- 
ing poles with flying banners on which were 
inscribed the graces and virtues of her within 
the car. Some of these Kim translated to me. 
They were all new to me, though she had 
graces and virtues unnumbered, I knew. 

The pageant was a splendid success. Before 
we passed out of the gate it was evident that 
the nation saw and was pleased. Even as 
we marched breathlessly through the Chinese 
quarter of the city there was no outbreak. 
Darkness, an absence of holiday regalia, and 
hundreds of sober faces only greeted us there. 
I breathed more easily when the city gate was 
reached. 

Just beyond, now in sight, rose the Mauso- 
leum and the City of a Night about it. My 
heart leaped at the sight of it, reflected in the 
glare of the thousand lanterns. Once safely 
13 [ i93 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

there, my forebodings and anxieties were at an 
end. Dulcine would be easily released, and the 
drama in which we were more prominent actors 
than was generally supposed, or than we wished 
to be, would be over. Already I thought of 
Japan — and home. 

The inspiration of these blessed hopes gave 
me strength to play my part to the end. And 
I needed strength, for the strain was telling on 
me. Kim, even, spoke of the pallor of my 
countenance, and I knew my hands and knees 
trembled. 


[ 194 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY 


THE SIGNAL OF THE SCABBARD 

I F the city of Keinning, three thousand years 
old, was marvelous in appearance, the City 
of a Night, at the foot of the Imperial Mauso- 
leum, was no less wonderful. 

Looking from the eastern gate, an avenue 
of fire led through darkness to an illuminated 
mountain three miles distant. Here and there 
in the gloom on either side of it little lights 
shone like will-o’-the-wisps in the paddy-fields, 
where lonely travelers, coming from the north 
or south and skirting the crowded city, made 
their way by candle-light toward the great 
white Tomb. The avenue of flame was a mov- 
ing wall of humanity, — a nation going to the 
grave-site chosen by the Imperial soothsayers. 
The line of red lanterns and the trail of fresh 
earth left the main avenue as it neared the goal, 
swinging out and around to the mound and the 
Hall of Spices where the Sarcophagus would 
rest before being entombed. 

[ i95 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

The sight was of bewildering beauty. 

The array encamped around the outskirts of 
this magic city, the stacks of arms making a 
glittering wall about it. Avenues were left 
open between the camping companies, where 
thousands wandered and warmed themselves 
by the soldiers’ fires. 

Nearer the Tomb and around it stood the 
temporary buildings erected by the King, at an 
expense of many thousands and for but a 
single night, in which to house himself and the 
guests invited to his Imperial wake. Beside 
the mound and altars were buildings for his 
cabinet, the Legations, and a general guest- 
house, and in each building a dining-room was 
provided where elaborate dinners were served 
immediately upon the arrival of the pageant. 
Every person was fed, from the ambassador to 
the poorest coolie, who had been freezing be- 
side his sputtering red lantern. 

At the very center of the perfect circle of 
stacked rifles arose the mound of earth which 
I had passed on my journey with Colonel Li 
to Wun Chow. This I have described as an 
oval mound fifty feet high, within which was 
built the solid granite Tomb. On the summit 
[ i9b] 


THE SIGNAL OF THE SCABBARD 


of the cone of earth could be seen the great 
tablet poised on end ; and on the side of the 
Mound, toward the Hall of Spices, an inclined 
track of smooth wood was laid, up which 
the loads of cake and spices and fruits were 
to be drawn ; after them the golden casket 
itself. 

My company marched to the Hall of Spices 
and surrounded it ; the Sarcophagus was borne 
within, where mountains of cake and spices, 
which were to be placed within the Tomb for the 
soul to feast upon, arose on every side, flanked 
by great piles of fruits. Masses of candy and 
spices were ranged behind the cake and fruits. 
I wondered where all this was to be stored, and, 
while personally stationing my guards, I entered 
the staging which held the great poised tablet, 
and looked down. Eight feet below I saw the 
mouth of the Tomb. This was a round room 
perhaps thirty feet high and as wide. A low 
marble pedestal was erected in the center, 
upon which the Sarcophagus was to be placed. 
Around about ran a wide marble ledge upon 
which cakes and candies, fruits and spices, 
were already being arranged by black-gowned 
servants. 


[ i97 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

No one was permitted to descend into the 
vault but these grim-looking men, who, Kim 
informed me, built the Tomb. They spoke not 
to each other, but signaled like dumb men. 
One yawned in my face, and I understood. 
Their tongues had been cut out. 

No one might enter that vault and tell its 
secrets to another! 

I hastened back to the Hall of Spices. The 
time was fast approaching now when I could 
give the signal and release Dulcine. However, 
the Household Ministers were still busy about 
the Sarcophagus, and the final honors to the 
dead were not yet performed. The palace 
women came by, heavily veiled and moaning 
loudly. After them came the Cabinet led by 
Prince Ting. Then followed the ambassadors 
of the foreign nations, stepping forward one 
by one, and bowing to the casket which lay 
behind parted yellow curtains. This over, the 
curtains were dropped. 

It was still an hour before sunrise, and the 
Tomb was not to receive its Imperial burden 
until that time. More rites to the dead were 
to be performed by priests in another portion 
of the building, and soon the dais before the 
[ 198] 


THE SIGNAL OF THE SCABBARD 


Sarcophagus was quite deserted. The releasing 
of Dulcine behind the yellow curtains would 
be but the work of a moment. My time had 
come. I took the hilt of my sword in my 
hand and mounted the steps. 

At that moment a voice spoke my name. I 
started, frightened, for I thought I was alone. I 
looked in the direction of the sound. On the 
lowest of the three steps which surrounded the 
building, and holding back the long silken cur- 
tain by one hand, stood Colonel Oranoff. In 
the dim light I thought I must be mistaken. 
I closed my eyes and then opened them, shad- 
ing them from the light of the nearest sputtering 
torch. And yet there he stood, dressed in the 
greatcoat and silk hat I had seen often on the 
streets of Keinning. The face seemed so pale 
that my throat choked with fear and my heart 
stopped beating. Did he know our secret ? 
Had others discovered it? That face so 
changed and altered — oh, what could it mean? 

I was left but a moment in anguish. Then 
he spoke again. The voice was equally un- 
real : 

“ She is not there. If you love her, follow 


me. 


c 199 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

If I loved her! Then she was elsewhere, 
and in danger ? I could not have believed 
those words from any other lips than those 
which uttered them. I would have left that 
dais for no other man on earth than Oranoff. 
The curtains came together. I knew he was a 
man of few words, and the retreating footsteps 
were his. “If you love her /” I hurried after 
him. 

I had not seen Dulcine’s father since I 
marched before the King and virtually told a 
lie by failing to tell the truth. I had heard 
him speak to Dulcine across my bed when she 
told the lie I acted, but I looked only at her. 
I tried to believe he had sought her in the 
British Legation party, and, missing her, had 
come to me. But his few words implied that 
he knew where she was. His face showed he 
was crazed with grief. 

I attempted to overtake him, but I quickly 
perceived he did not desire this, for he regu- 
lated his paces with mine and remained in the 
lead. We passed around the mound. Now I 
saw he also took the precaution not to be recog- 
nized by others and carried himself peculiarly, 
one shoulder being carried higher than another. 

[ 200 ] 


THE SIGNAL OF THE SCABBARD 


I dumbly followed his example, thinking of 
nothing save the danger which had come to 
Dulcine. With this fear in my heart I seemed 
bereft of every sense. 

At length we reached the soldiers, and 
Oranoff chose one of the darker avenues or 
spaces between the companies and passed 
swiftly through the stacks of burnished rifles 
and out into the gloom beyond. I could now 
see the dim forms of several persons beyond 
us. There were ponies with them. 

Nowand not until now did I in the least doubt 
that I was following Colonel Oranoff, blinded 
as I was by my awful fears. I looked again 
upon those shoulders, and suddenly the scales 
fell from my eyes. 

It was the man of the crippled shoulders. 
Menin had caught me at last ! 

But even as I turned and reached to my side, 
a blow on the head from some one who was 
silently following felled me to the ground. 

The sun was rising when again I opened my 
eyes. Perhaps the torture of the cords which 
bound me to the pony hastened the return of 
consciousness. For a moment I gazed blankly 
[ 201 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

into the valley from which we were climbing, 
just as the sun was gilding the crest of the far- 
off rocks. Below was Keinning, the valley of 
the Phan, the plain wherein stood the Queen’s 
Mausoleum. 

Then a strange sound came up through the 
fog. It ran along the cliffs like a roll of tiny 
drums. At last the echoes beat themselves to 
death on the rocks and dropped lifeless at their 
base. The sound was as though a gigantic 
hammer had struck a mountain cliff. It chilled 
the blood in my veins, and started my stag- 
gering brain from its dreaming. My reason 
returned. 

The great tablet had dropped forever upon 
the Royal Mausoleum, burying Dulcine Oranoff 
within it, alive ! 


[ 202 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE 

THE MASQUERADER 

W HEN I regained consciousness, the sun 
was in the zenith. The horse to which 
I was tied was climbing upward slowly, and 
behind me rode two men. We were still as- 
cending rocky ridges toward the mountain 
crest, which I now saw was not far distant. 
The men behind me talked excitedly ; now 
and then they laughed. My capture evidently 
meant much to them, yet they may not have 
been thinking of me at all. At any rate, all I 
knew was that they talked Chinese — and per- 
haps I could not have known anything worse. 
Of course I knew nothing of their destination, 
though I recognized at once the stony by-road 
on which I had come up from Han Chow to 
Keinning. 

I think no one ever cared less about the 
future than I did then. I remember I wished 
to “ go to my Gawd like a soldier,” as the 
[ 203 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

English soldiers sing — not to be tortured to 
satiate the hate of a Chinese mandarin. 

I was bound with ropes made of twisted 
straw; now and then by raising myself on my 
hands, or by straightening the muscles of my 
limbs, I was able to lessen the pain, but when 
eased thus I thought of Dulcine smothering in 
that marble tomb. Then I relaxed my muscles 
and let my bonds cut and tear me. Yet, as 
time passed, the same thoughts came in spite of 
the pain. I remembered the distracted Oranoff, 
and prayed God he would believe we had run 
away together ; and I swore, so far as I was con- 
cerned, that he should never know otherwise. 

But what of Dulcine ? Could she live ? 
Had the concussion of the falling of that 
tremendous tablet killed her? If not, was she 
not alive ? I remembered the great size of the 
Tomb and knew she could not exhaust the air 
in it in an hour or a day, — no, not in a week. 
As for food, she was buried in it, — food to last 
a soul’s lifetime; yet the fragrance of that 
cake and spice, would not that suffocate her ? 
And I really wondered if it would not be a 
blessing to her to hope that it would, and 
speedily ! 


[ 204 ] 


THE MASQUERADER 

With these thoughts came hope, — a hope 
quite as agonizing as the despair in which it 
was conceived. There was chance enough of 
the girl’s living, I believed, to warrant any 
attempt to escape, even though I had to thread 
the finest needle in the world to do it ; if alive, 
Dulcine could not live very long, and if I 
would bring assistance I must work quickly. 
The measure of my life measured hers, and 
the least I could do now was to risk my life 
generously in the attempt to save hers. 

We hid that day in a deep valley where my 
guides treated me with better favor than I had 
hoped, and at dark we started on again. It 
was midnight before we came up to a hut on 
the mountain near to the rocky road where my 
legs were unbound, and, supported, as I had 
need to be, by a servant, I was taken into a 
lighted room and dropped upon a stool at the 
end of a long table. 

The light blinded me, but I knew a man sat 
opposite. Slowly his features became distinct. 
I started, for I thought at first it was Oranoff. 
Then it was all plain — I was facing the mas- 
querader who had lured me from Dulcine’s 
side. 


[ 205 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

He had replaced the false imperial, — to give 
me a better welcome, and obviate an intro- 
duction, — and he grinned a hellish grin as I 
stared aghast. Now I saw that his face was 
too wide for Oranoff’s and lacked, on closer 
view, the Colonel’s color; the black hair and 
eyebrows, however, helped the deception. 

“ Mr. Robert Martyn, I believe.” The wild 
grimace returned the moment the words were 
spoken. 

“ At your service,” I answered sharply ; I 
would not have the devil outdo me, and then I 
blurted out quickly and angrily enough : “ By 

God, you shall pay dear for this outrage, Sir.” 

“Jamie” he replied, drawling the Quelpartien 
oath like a native, and drew the false beard 
from his face. Then he rolled a cigarette and 
lighted it, looking at me out of the corner of his 
eye. Sore as I was, and exhausted, I looked 
this man over as I had never looked at another. 
That he was surely the tool of Prince Tuen I 
knew; beyond that I could not get ; his nation- 
ality could not have been guessed, though I 
felt he was no stranger to Calcutta. His short, 
crisp hair was that of an Indian’s, and he often 
stroked it quickly with his hand as if to brush 
[ 206 ] 


THE MASQUERADER 

down its kinky ends. But to know he was 
Tuen’s agent was to know a very great deal, 
for I had served the ambitious Tuen a hard 
turn in carrying through the Imperial Funeral. 

Menin sat drumming the wooden table 
and looking at me searchingly now and then 
with his small black eyes, and his manner 
served only to arouse my anger, and again it 
got the better of me. 

“ And what am I, Sir,” I snarled, “ the cap- 
tive of a bandit or a prisoner of war? ” 

“ That will be for you to determine, my dear 
Martyn,” he said with a yawn ; and he called 
a boy who brought a bottle of cognac and a 
wine-glass. At a word my wrists were freed, 
and a glass was filled and placed before me. 
The liquor gave me strength to be sensible and 
keep still. It made the exasperating smile on 
his face return ; at last he threw back his 
head and laughed outright and heartily. I 
glared across the table, insane to seize that 
white throat, but I kept still. Finally when he 
realized I would amuse him no longer, he 
sobered and drank again. 

“ No, Captain, I am no bandit, nor are you a 
prisoner of war. In fact, this is quite irregular, 
[ 207] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

but you will allow me the liberty to say that 
you have a propensity for getting in the way; ” 
and he smiled and put his cigarette to his lips, 
cocking his head to avoid the smoke, and 
looked at me. 

“ A bad habit of trying to do what I am 
bid,” I answered hotly, though I was attempting 
now to meet him on his own ground of super- 
cilious indifference ; “ I do not play impostor, 
though,” I added casually ; “ I know something 
besides deceit.” 

“ Par Dieu ,” he growled suddenly, “ but I 
thought that your long suit,” — and I knew he 
meant the travesty of the funeral just com- 
pleted. I had, at least, touched the man to the 
quick. I probed deeper now, mad with fear 
for Dulcine. 

“You corrupted the priests at Lynx Island; 
you destroyed the Temple, and the blood of a 
score of better men than you is on your head. 
You are now murdering a helpless girl by 
making way with me. And by the God in 
Heaven your quarters shall swim in blood for 
that.” 

The man began laughing again, and it was 
plain now that my fear for the girl I had buried 
[ 208 ] 






































5 













































































THE MASQUERADER 

alive was the cause of his hilarity. I certainly 
had gotten myself in a devilish plight, the more 
so as my captors had much to avenge them- 
selves for. But then, suddenly, the black eyes 
narrowed on me, and the light of laughter died 
down, smothered by hate. 

“ Jamie , boy, how came you into all this ? 
What have you been doing ? I will tell you, 
so you may know with whom you are dealing. 
You sailed from Lynx Island in the night to 
Han Chow. The coward Kepneff failed you, 
and the wires. You went on to Keinning. 
You told Oranoff the Queen’s body was in the 
new Sarcophagus. At midnight you met 
Dulcine Oranoff and induced her to make 
good your failure. Lieutenant Kim and you 
placed her in the Sarcophagus at daylight that 
morning.” 

Aghast as I was at this man’s knowledge, I 
played my part as best I could and smiled, 
when he paused, indifferently. 

“ And what hatfe you gained,” I sneered 
presently, “for all your spying?” 

He started up quickly, for this was a tender 
spot — his failure — and he cried : 

“ I have gained all you have lost.” 

14 [ 209 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I knew he meant Dulcine, and I trembled. 
Did he mean anything more ? “ My God ! ” 
thought I — and here I sprang to my feet with 
a gasp — “ did he release Dulcine himself and 
take her captive too ? ” 

Promptly the villain laid a revolver on the 
table before him and I sat down, my head in 
my hands. It was bad enough to believe Dul- 
cine to be in that marble tomb, but held a cap- 
tive in a den of this man’s choosing — oh ! this 
broke my spirit utterly, and I groaned aloud. 

“ Come, come, lad, groans will not save 
fair lady,” he said presently with mocking 
hilarity; “but follow me, and I will tell you 
what will.” 

We went out, “Sahib,” his servant, and my- 
self, and mounted three Korean ponies. I 
was sent on in front, and for half an hour we 
followed a little path over a mountain, and up 
to the summit of a rocky hill beyond. Before 
we reached its crest I heard the booming of 
the sea ! 

“You see that light,” and Menin pointed to 
a lantern swinging at the mast of a launch 
anchored half a mile from shore. “ Dulcine 
Oranoff is there, a prisoner like yourself.” 

[ 210] 


THE MASQUERADER 

“You are a liar,” I interposed promptly, 
unwilling to believe this to be the truth. He 
had not known the Signal of the Scabbard ! 
The Sarcophagus could not be opened — once 
the King closed it — save from within. Dul- 
cine would have answered no summons but 
that agreed upon, though she paid the penalty 
with her life. Yet the man, ignoring my inter- 
jection, went on undisturbed. 

“ Now, Sir, the King of Quelparte must hear 
from your own lips that the funeral was a 
damned hoax, and that the Queen’s body was 
utterly destroyed on Lynx Island. He will 
believe you,” he added significantly: “you 
will go back to Keinning to-morrow, under 
the care of two of my men. If you make 
one move to escape you are as good as dead. 
To-morrow night you will go with them and 
demand an Audience and tell the King what I 
have said. If you do this, you are a free man, 
and Dulcine Oranoff will be found safe and 
well with her father who has gone to Chefoo. 
Do you understand ? ” 

It did not take me a moment to determine 
my course. 

“ I will start for Keinning at once,” I answered. 
[ 211 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUEL PARTE 

“All is well, then,” replied my captor. And 
at a sign from him the servant discharged a 
revolver three times in succession. In a mo- 
ment two lights glimmered from the little 
vessel. Then Menin dismounted and handed 
the bridle of his pony to the servant, where- 
upon he turned to me. 

“ Dulcine Oranoff’s life hangs as truly on 
your keeping faith with us as your life depends 
on the air you breathe, Sir.” With that he 
went down the mountain-side, and his servant 
put himself behind me, and we too went home- 
ward alone. 


[ 212 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO 


A RUDE AWAKENING 

S we went on back to that hut in the 



r\ mountains my words, “You are a liar,” 
came back to me, and I repeated them again 
and again, and no words ever fitted my lips so 
snugly. For I felt in every nerve that I was 
right. Sahib Menin, for so his servant called 
him, was throwing boldly now on the strength 
of the effect of his knowledge of what I had 
done, but I believed more and more each mo- 
ment that his was a stupendous deception. He 
had not released Dulcine ! She would have 
obeyed none but that preconcerted signal — 
and that signal he could not have known! In 
all else I might be wrong, but at such a time as 
this Dulcine would keep faithfully her word. 
“ Remember the signal of the scabbard,” she 
had written ; how then could she forget ? 
Leastwise if she had been false to our agree- 
ment she must now pay the penalty, — for I 


[ 213 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

purposed to act as I would, had I known she 
was in the marble Tomb, where, unless she 
had broken faith with me, she surely was. 

So I simply determined to get to Keinning 
the quickest and best way I could, then slip 
my guards, and go about the task of releasing 
Dulcine. 

It was graying into day as we put back the 
briery path. I forecast we could not reach 
Keinning before midnight, and I resolved to 
play every hand slowly in order to make it 
later than that, too late, in fact, to see the King 
that night. At the hut one man guarded me 
while the other prepared some rice for our 
breakfast, and it must have been an hour after 
sunrise before we were on the road again. I 
was now so exhausted that the jogging of the 
pony put me to sleep, and I awakened only 
when he stumbled on the stones. 

But I seemed to think and plan even as I 
slept. My chief anxiety was first to escape 
my guards, and I soon began to believe this 
would be no easy trick. They were powerful 
Chinamen, and their faces said they were fit 
tools for such as Menin and Tuen. They 
would hold no manner of conversation with 
c 214] 


A RUDE AWAKENING 


me ; indeed, they talked by signs to each other, 
though I could see in a moment both under- 
stood what I said to them. 

Yet we were late in our start, and for that I 
was ahead. In coming from Keinning we had 
traveled one whole night and half a second, — 
at least fifteen hours. At our best we could 
not reach Keinning before midnight, and I set 
about the task of seeing that we did not do 
our best. When I awoke from each succes- 
sive nap I asked painfully for water, and my 
guards stopped always at the nearest spring. 
I groaned not a little, and once begged to rest 
on the ground. I found it an easy role to 
play exhausted, for I was nearer to it than 
probably I realized myself. At this spring 
they let me sleep an hour at least, for which I 
was proportionately thankful. 

I am sure they did not penetrate my ruse, 
and I knew if we did not reach Keinning be- 
fore three o’clock in the morning, there was 
no hope of seeing the King before the evening 
following. In those twelve hours I felt sure I 
could get free. 

Menin had so skillfully mingled what I 
believed to be lies with what I feared was the 

[215] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

truth that I was in a maze of perplexities ; for 
instance, he had said incidentally that Oranoff 
had gone to Chefoo. Now this was a matter 
about which he would not have lied to me lest an 
unimportant fib should menace the fabric built 
up on his greater falsehood. Oranoff must 
have attended the Imperial Funeral and then 
gone straightway to Tsi and Chefoo ; how 
Menin could know this, when he had preceded 
me to that hut in the mountains, was a baffling 
mystery — yet was it not welcome news? If 
out of the country, Oranoff would not know of 
Dulcine’s disappearance or mine ; perhaps he 
need never know, if Dulcine could be saved 
within a few days. So I worried and planned 
and argued all day long, fighting my fears 
away like a swarm of stinging gnats ; but ever 
holding with dogged tenacity to the belief that 
Dulcine Oranoff was in that marble Tomb, 
since no one else had known our Signal of the 
Scabbard. 

I was dozing as the afternoon faded into 
twilight, when suddenly the ground seemed to 
give way, and I was dropping through air. 
When I first became conscious I was lying on 
my horse, and we were both shooting swiftly 
[216] 


A RUDE AWAKENING 


down a smooth precipice of sandstone, the rope 
by which I was tied to my horse being severed 
as we shot along. My guides had stopped for 
some reason, and my pony had evidently gone 
to the deceptive edge of the precipice to 
browse. We brought up with a crash in tall 
bushes, which had taken root in a wide, natural 
catch water, through which I was thrown by 
the force of the impact, and lay sprawling on 
the rock, quite breathless, as my guards, wild 
with excitement, rushed to the point where my 
horse had fallen. 

They were not more surprised than I ; but 
they were a deal more unlucky. For a moment 
I lay still to get my breath. Then I arose as 
best I could, and ran along, keeping behind the 
shrubs. A rifle snipped on the ledge above 
me. Its companion repeated the command, 
and blood trickled from my hand, for the ball 
went between my fingers. I ran on, bending 
lower, and soon I was out of sight. Resounding 
hoof-beats along the crest announced that 
my guards were hurrying around to head 
me off. 

Then I turned about and went leisurely back 
up the cliffs to the spot where my horse had 

[ 217 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

fallen. I crossed the road and went down on 
the opposite side of the ridge. 

I use the word “ leisurely ” without flip- 
pancy. I could not have gone otherwise, and I 
found I could not go far, even leisurely. I had 
done this much on the strength of desperation, 
and other strength I had not. Yet I stumbled 
on, looking only for a place to hide. My legs 
were benumbed by the thongs which had bound 
them ; the blood ran easily from my hand. I 
did not care where I went, — and I knew I 
was caring less each step I took. It was easier 
going downhill, and I went on somehow to 
the bottom, to the brook where KepnefFs ser- 
vant and I had drunk. I saw an overhanging 
bank, crept under it, and thrust my hand, 
wrist-deep, into the cold mud. 

I was awakened by the monotonous thwack- 
thwack of a Quelpartienne’s paddle, for these 
people wash their clothes on the stones of 
the brooks, beating them with boards. I was 
faint for want of food ; it was coming on 
night, and I was worse than lost. I arose 
and followed the bed of the brook toward 
the resounding paddle, conscious that I 
should be very much safer in a Ouel- 
[ 218 ] 


A RUDE AWAKENING 


partien hut that night than lying about the 
mountain-side. 

When the woman saw me, she dropped her 
paddle and ran screaming up the bank out of 
sight. I fancy I did look ghastly, though I 
had tried to wash the blood from my face and 
head ; such clothes as my captors had left me 
(they had confiscated my coat and hat) were 
bright enough with gold and silver to attract 
attention. I had torn the lining from my 
heavy vest, and had bound up my hand ; truly 
I must have looked like a warrior wakened 
from his sleep on a forgotten battle-ground. I 
did not blame her for running. 

I went on to the path up the bank which 
the frightened woman had taken, but before I 
reached the top of it I was on the ground again. 
If I remember correctly I had not eaten since 
the noon of the day before, nor slept for a 
week, save my naps at Han Chow, at the Lega- 
tion, and on the horse to which I had been 
bound. 


[219 j 


CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE 

NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 

1 WAS awakened by some one softly bathing 
my face with a cloth. For a moment I lay 
still, half fearing to open my eyes. When I did 
so, I looked into the face of a young girl who 
was wiping the blood from my cheeks ; she held 
out the crimson cloth before my face to explain 
her action, and smiled as she did so. I saw 
she was no Quelpartienne ; her short skirt of 
red, and cap of green, and an open, thin, nut- 
brown face made this plain. And I felt in- 
stantly that she knew I, too, was a foreigner. 
When I raised my hand I found it was neatly 
bandaged, though I still lay in the path where 
I had fallen. 

I sat up quickly and pointed to the summit 
of the mountain. 

“ Chinamen,” I stammered, trying to express 
my fears by voice and expression ; then I re- 
peated it in French: 

“ Chenois ? Chenois ? ” 
l 220 ] 


NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 


The girl understood. She smiled and shook 
her head and pointed down the mountain. 

“ Not come chop-chop [quick-quick] ? ” she 
said in a soft, low voice. 

“ Chenois go chop-chop whole top side ? ” I 
asked. 

The girl nodded again and laughed in her 
sleeve as if enjoying the despair of my guards. 

“ By-and*by, bottom side chop-chop ,” said I, 
and I looked around me anxiously. The girl 
saw what I meant and sobered thoughtfully, as 
she motioned me to let her continue bathing 
my face. Gladly I sank down again on the 
cool earth, it seemed so good to lie still. And 
despite my fears and growing anxieties I went 
immediately to sleep again. 

I awoke to loud talking, and in the dim light 
I saw a stalwart old Quelpartienne, her arms 
akimbo, arguing with the girl who had be- 
friended me. It was going poorly with my 
little champion, for, at the moment I opened 
my eyes, the great woman in baggy white 
trousers swept the mountain crest with her ex- 
tended arm and completed her invective with 
a disturbed, querulous growl. It was plain they 
feared the return of my guards. So did I ! 

[ 221 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I lay still, knowing another language would 
only confound their confusion, neither one 
understanding half the other said as it was. 

For a moment the girl — whose name, as the 
old woman spoke it, is perhaps best described 
by the five letters Nsase — remained silent. 
Then suddenly she drew her two forefingers 
around her temples and asked a question. 

After a long pause the old woman gave a 
reluctant grunt as her answer, and in a moment 
Nsase was at my side binding the wet cloth, 
with which she had bathed me, over my eyes. 
I was to be taken blindfolded to a hiding-place 
of her choosing! 

At times it seems strange to me now that I 
trusted this girl so implicitly, but it did not 
seem extraordinary to do so then, at such a 
crucial time. There was nothing I could do 
that night save rest and fit myself for work, for 
the work I had before me was to require a 
steadier brain and nerve than I should other- 
wise have. The only question with me at the 
time was one of expedience. At last I went 
like a lamb, blindfolded, where this strange 
girl led me. If I thought to question her fidel- 
ity it was only as the failing swimmer questions 
[ 222 ] 


NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 


the strength of the rope thrown to him ; in my 
condition, I would have died on the mountain 
in the open air. 

I was taken uphill for a distance, then care- 
fully over a level spot until Nsase stopped and 
signified for me to lie down ; the smell of earth 
and the distant drip of water made me be- 
lieve — as it turned out — that I was in a cave. 
My eyes soon became accustomed to the dark- 
ness (the bandage having been removed) and 
I saw a bowl of rice beside me. From the mo- 
ment I saw Nsase I believed that it was she who 
befriended my servant and me as we passed 
this way before, and that now she had brought 
me to her hidden home to save me from my 
captors. 

Some one lit a candle in the outer room, and 
an unsavory supper was eaten from wooden 
bowls. 

I was just going to sleep again. The soft 
mat under me, the strange feeling of safety, 
the nourishing rice, made me content for the 
moment to stop thinking and to try to re- 
cover my strength for the journey to Kein- 
ning — for I was confident that I was in the 
hands of friends who would see me through. 

[ 22 3 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Then a rough, harsh voice brought me 
quickly to my feet, my hand to my beltless 
waist. The women screamed. 

I knew that voice. I knew what the screams 
meant. I backed mechanically against the wall 
of the darkened room, and cursed the scoun- 
drels for having taken my sword. For I was 
ready to fight — yes, with the dark cave behind 
me I fairly ached to fight them. I groped 
along the wall. It was covered with matting. 
Then I cut myself on a sharp edge. I felt, 
and it was a sword-blade. As I tried to take 
it down, another beside it cut me again. And 
beyond this were more — each sharper than an 
adder s fang. What did this mean ? 

My question was answered, for Nsase came 
to me in the darkness. Finding me by the 
swords, she led me back to my mat, where I lay 
down again at a whispered word of command 
in an unknown tongue. Fast quarreling in 
the outer room had been succeeded by violent 
rummaging about. The noise came nearer and 
nearer. By this time another girl had entered 
the cave. She brought some glowing substance 
like phosphorus which the two divided between 
them ; then, side by side, they took their sta- 
[ 224 ] 


NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 


tion just within the matting, a glittering sword 
in each hand. 

Then I knew I was hidden in a Quelpartien 
sword-dancer’s cave. I was where no man had 
ever been before or would ever come again. 
The girls waited patiently, supremely confident 
in their magic power. They expected intruders, 
and intruders came. 

Instantly, as by magic, the heavy mat cur- 
tains moved aside on the wire from which they 
hung. The girls, hardly visible to those with- 
out, were more plainly revealed to me. Their 
black, sequin-studded hair fell loosely down. 
A young tiger’s skin enveloped each of them, 
thrown over one shoulder, caught together on 
the opposite loin, and hanging down on one 
side a hand’s breadth below the knees. Their 
black hair was long and was wrought into tiny 
snake-like braids which writhed about as the 
arms were put in motion, or darted off swiftly 
with the flames of the glistening swords which 
in an instant were whirling in their orbits. 

Such a dance ! My regiment could not have 
protected me more securely. A man’s life was 
not worth even the dimmest ray that came from 
the swords. No battlefield ever was so deadly 
is [ 225 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

as the blazing zone through which those swords 
writhed and hissed. Though I had seen the 
secret of the illumination employed, neverthe- 
less I utterly forgot my danger as the wild 
dance went on. It would have made any man 
forget anything. 

Each broadsword was a flame of light : two 
thrown together with a practised hand wrought 
a sheet of flame ; the four, when they cut the 
semi-circle together, sent blinding blasts of fire 
straight forward and straight back. Now a 
bolt of chain lightning fell from the right or 
left, seeming to cleave the ground. Now a 
flame poised overhead a second, then descended 
as the glittering blades came down. The fine 
black braids of hair curled lovingly about the 
white arms, or, flying in the wake of the sweep- 
ing swords, stood extended. Often a descend- 
ing blade severed them, and numberless braided 
ends lay on the ground beneath the softly 
stepping sandals. Now a ball of fire rolled 
spluttering around each form as the swords 
were whirled on a finger ; then each white face 
was surrounded by a flame of light, the dusky 
eyes flashing beneath a thousand wayward 
wisps of hair. 


[ 226 ] 


NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 


I could not see into the room beyond. But 
all had become deathly still. The intruders 
now knew the nature of this hidden hut in the 
mountains, — knew they need not look for me 
in that cave, had I even dared so much as to 
approach it. 

All this I read in the demeanor of the danc- 
ing girls. And as my baffled guards turned 
themselves into sight-seers rather than spies, 
the quick-witted dancers turned their cunning 
into an exhibition rather than a continuation 
of it as a menacing defense. They came 
back, sweeping the cave with light ; they came 
forward in perfect unison and swiftly, throwing 
the great swords about them to a weird song 
which now became a feature of the perform- 
ance. The new development of the fiery 
drama — the melody of the monotone and the 
more elaborate scenic display, the circles and 
squares of flame, and other nameless convolu- 
tions — rendered the close of the exhibition as 
marvelous as the beginning. Next to the last 
service at the Temple of Ching-ling, I shall 
ever remember the dance of Nsase, the sword- 
dancer, which saved my life on the mountains 
of Quelparte that night. 

[ 227 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

At the end came a tumult of applause from 
the delighted spectators, now utterly at the 
mercy of my friends. I saw at once they meant 
to stay all night; and I also saw, with dis- 
quietude, that they were being received with 
hospitality, to say the least. Perhaps anything 
else would have aroused suspicion. 

Food was prepared for the visitors, and the 
jars of sul } or native beer, clinked as they were 
raised and lowered. There was more laughter 
than talk, and more sul than rice. The girls, 
still fantastically dressed in the scant raiment 
in which they had danced, led in the laughter 
and did most of the talking; and Nsase out- 
talked and outlaughed her sister. The soldiers 
answered with many a coarse guffaw, which grew 
louder for a while — and then quite ceased. 

I had grown despondent. I did not know 
what the strange carousal of the dancing girls 
meant, and I feared what might happen when 
all became drunk. I took down a forbidden 
sword and lay quiet on my bed. 

I must have dropped asleep, and I knew not 
when the scene changed in the other room, 
nor just when Nsase and her sister ceased 
playing the tragedy they acted so well. I 
[ 228 ] 


NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 


awoke when Nsase aroused me by unclasping 
my fingers from the sword. She was dressed 
decently and heavily, as for traveling. She 
smiled as I sat up, and instantly helped me to 
my feet. I saw she intended to start me on 
my way. In an instant I was ready, but I 
paused and pointed to the sword. I wanted 
that. But Nsase took my outstretched hand 
and led me into the other room. 

Her sister and the old woman were gone. 
By the light of a paper lantern we picked our 
way along by the overturned pots and jugs. 
Nsase paused as we neared the door, looked at 
me, and then glanced behind her. She still 
held my hand and now she pressed it. I 
looked over her shoulder. 

The two Chinamen lay stretched on the 
floor. The color of the liquor was on their 
bloated faces — and another color too ! In 
searching for me they had found the sword- 
dancers’ hut, which no man may know, much 
less enter. And yet into it they had broken, 
rough and furious. They would trouble them 
and me no more ! 

Before we went out and mounted their horses, 
Nsase wrapped me in a long white robe, such 
[ 229 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

as that she wore. She took the lead, and we 
pushed the horses on silently from ten o’clock 
until dawn. As it began to grow light we 
were getting down deep into the mists of 
the Phan valley, and I knew that when they 
lifted Keinning would be in sight. When it 
became light enough for us to see each other, 
Nsase dropped back, and we rode side by side. 
Now and again I knew the girl was looking at 
me from between the folds of her white head- 
dress. We had not spoken — for good reasons. 
And yet amid all else I was thinking, I had 
not forgotten her; she was not a girl easily 
forgotten. In a hundred ways she had shown 
that she had seen the world and knew it. 
Where had she come from, that she should 
now be found in the mountains of Quelparte, 
a past-master in the outlawed profession of 
sword-dancing? And now, her wild lessons 
learned from the old woman with whom she 
lived (for Quelpartiens are known as unrivaled 
in this soldier’s art), what strange land would 
claim her, what cities praise her, — Singapore 
or Rangoon, Lhassa or Port Said ? Strong, 
handsome — oh, well ; something set me to 
humming “ Mandalay.” 

[ 230 ] 


NSASE, THE SWORD-DANCER 


At last the mists did lift. And there 
was Keinning just at our feet. Nsase had 
come farther with me than necessary, but 
I think she would have gone farther, much 
farther. 

She drew up her tired horse on the last 
range of foot-hills, and dismounted. She 
pointed to the distant city, then, with a sad 
smile on her face, up the road which she must 
return. I dismounted, too, to rest a moment. 
It seemed good to feel safe again. We stood 
still awhile by our horses. I was more grate- 
ful to her than I could ever tell, could we have 
spoken the same language. It was a relief not 
to be able to try. 

After a while Nsase reached under her long 
robe (she had taken mine off) and drew out a 
long, beautiful scabbard containing a finer 
sword than many more exalted officers than I 
carry. With an attempt at laughing the girl 
surrendered to me, and then girt the belt 
around my waist. For a second she held the 
scabbard. She was very close to me, and 
looked away at the distant city. Then she 
dropped it and went to her horse. 

I was greatly moved by the gift, remember- 

[ 231 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

in g that she took a sword away from me as 
we left the cave. 

Though now more deeply in her debt, I was 
utterly helpless to repay Nsase, however much 
1 longed to show my gratitude. But I could 
not in any way, and I only pressed her hand 
as I gave her the bridle, and bade her “ au 
revoir ” — for, if God was good to me, I would 
yet repay her kindness. She sat quiet a little 
while on her pony, then, as I moved aside, she 
rode off slowly and never once looked back. 

With aching heart I watched the still figure 
till it was lost amid the great boulders by the 
side of the mountain path. Then I turned to 
my horse in haste to pass Nsase’s good favor 
on. My life was saved, and there — yes, the 
mists had just lifted from it — stood the 
mound of the Imperial Mausoleum. 


[ 232] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 
S I descended into the great plain in 



l \ which Keinning lay, my eyes rested 
steadily on this conical mound of earth. No 
one gazing from those heights could have 
overlooked that peculiar formation. 

But as I neared it, rejoicing in my freedom, 
the terrible fear that Dulcine was not there, — 
that she was something worse, even, than buried 
alive, returned. No matter how frequently I 
crushed down this awful fear, it would return, 
and I would again hear the devil Menin’s 
sneering words of triumph, — 

“ I have gained all you have lost f” But I 
was determined to stand fast to my course. 
The fears, the sneering threats, — nothing 
should alter my trust in Dulcine. She had 
known the signal, and I had certainly never 
given it, and that another could have acciden- 
tally given it was a possibility too remote to be 
considered now. 


[ 2 33 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

But if ever I had a hard problem it was a 
kitten’s plaything to this : How could that 
Mound, made impregnable by the best of 
human skill, be entered, and the prisoner 
released ? 

The Mound was about fifty feet in height. 
The diameter of its base was equal to its 
height. The gravel sides had been turfed with 
grass since the Imperial Funeral. The magic 
city which had been at its base had disappeared 
with the army and the great concourse of 
people. All the temporary buildings had been 
taken away; but the Hall of Spices remained, 
for it was not temporary. It was to be the 
Temple of the Tomb, where services to the 
memory of the Queen would be celebrated. 
As I pushed my horse down from the hills, 
I felt the fever of fear fill my veins. Was it, 
verily, a tomb ? 

As I came nearer — for I had to pass the 
Mound to reach the East Gate — I saw work- 
men on its summit erecting a diminutive 
Temple roof to shelter the face of the great 
tablet. My spirits rose at the sight of these 
men, and I strained my eyes to catch a glimpse 
of a familiar form; for, during the ride from 
[ 2 34 ] 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 


the sword-dancer’s cave, I had decided that my 
hope lay in one man, — old Ling’s son, Kim. 
Not until then had I thought of him, and re- 
membered his appointment as Secret Guardian 
of the Queen in his father’s place. I congrat- 
ulated myself on having kept my hasty promise 
to the father, for as I thought of it I was surer 
than ever that Dulcine Oranoff’s life was in 
his hands; but I dared not think what the 
grave youth would do or say. I knew the 
penalty of an attempt to mock the terrible 
legend and enter that Mausoleum : the body 
of the ghoulish vandal would be divided among 
the capitals of the twenty provinces, to be 
displayed in a public place. 

If Kim could not help me, there was but one 
man left to ask. That was the King, and 
asking him would be to tell the whole miser- 
able story of Lynx Island and Prince Tuen’s 
victory. And yet, had not a week passed 
without the fulfilment of the terrible myth ? 
Was the King not sane still, and the dynasty 
still secure ? And might not another week go 
by like this — and many ? 

I pushed my horse on as fast as it could go, 
knowing each moment was an eternity to 

[235 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Dulcine. I passed within a hundred yards of 
the Mausoleum and watched the score of men 
who were at work upon the little Temple roof. 
The material for it was being brought up on 
the very car and track upon which the golden 
Sarcophagus had ascended. 

As I looked again upon these scenes so 
indelibly impressed on my memory, I thought 
of the terrible experiences Dulcine had endured 
since she bade me that last farewell. How the 
poor girl must have waited and waited and 
waited in her narrow cell for the signal that 
never came ! How her exhausted nerves must 
have trembled ! How her very life-blood must 
have been wrung from her heart as the mo- 
ments passed! Did she know when the ser- 
vice of the priests was over ? Could she have 
known when she was placed upon the sliding 
car? Did she realize that she was beyond the 
Altar of Spices, — aye, beyond all human power 
to save ? Did she feel herself being lowered 
into the Tomb — or had the stunning, deafen- 
ing shock of the falling tablet first told her that 
her lover had proven faithless and had sent her 
to a living tomb after failing to bring back the 
real body of the Queen ? 

[ 236] 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 


I ached to hurry now to the Mound, but I 
could not, dressed as I was. And so I pushed 
on into the city. But here another question 
arose. Where should I go? I could not go 
to the Legation. Already Colonel Oranoff 
might have given out the news of Dulcine’s 
absence, and of mine. Yet I was sure he would 
believe we were together, and that he would 
not quickly make public our disappearance. I 
could not help wondering if in all his diplo- 
matic days he had ever faced a riddle more 
difficult to solve than this. 

And so I turned toward the Japanese settle- 
ment, as I went into Keinning, and lodged at a 
Japanese inn. From there I boldly indited a 
letter to Colonel Oranoff, saying that for rea- 
sons which he would fully approve when he 
knew them, Dulcine and I had left Keinning 
together. I dated my note from Tsi, the morn- 
ing after the funeral, for I learned from a 
paper that a boat had sailed then for Port 
Arthur. 

By this time I was ready to return to the 
Mausoleum in search of Kim, and a fresh horse 
quickly carried me over the three miles, driven 
by the anxiety that filled my heart. The place 

[237 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

was still under guard, and it was only by good 
luck that I was able to approach the Mound. 
Andorph was not there, but one of his captains 
knew me and let me within the lines. 

The moment my foot touched the Mound, 
up which the officer led me, I was beside my- 
self with excitement. I asked anxiously for 
Kim Ling, but the man could give me no infor- 
mation. I was surprised at this, but never for 
a moment doubted that the officer in command 
could do so. 

The whole of the great basin of the Phan lay 
at our feet as we ascended this Mound so beau- 
tifully set in the midst of the plain. The view 
was more charming from this spot than from 
the hills about, for the fog had lifted, and things 
before shrouded in it now took on their true 
outlines. But to my tired eyes it was common 
enough, — the great sweep of the Phan, the 
crowds of huts that lay along its banks, the odd 
boats, some of them of large proportions, which 
went up and down carrying the strangest sails 
winds ever encountered. Far beyond, the Silk 
Worm wound along on the crest of the moun- 
tain very like the crawling thing the Quelpar- 
tiens took it to be. Above it great buzzards 
[238] 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 


were circling, and on its side a dozen forms 
in white were raking grass for the winter fire. 
Keinning lay flung wide over the valley, the 
gray walls, some of the Legations, the Pa- 
goda, a new American house, being all that 
could be seen, save the dead level of the grace- 
ful tile roofs or the bushy straw roofs of the 
poor. On the other side lay Pukhan, with the 
great wall of a mountain fortress, surrounding 
on its summit a space as great as that occu- 
pied by Keinning in the valley, a refuge for 
the kings of Quelparte who should be brave 
enough to dare to run away — should there 
ever come one so brave. 

“ Good-morning,” I said eagerly to the offi- 
cer in command, who was overseeing the erec- 
tion of the roof above the Tablet; “may I see 
Lieutenant Ling ? ” 

The man started at my words. “ Ling is 
not here,” he replied ; “ I have nothing to do 
with Lieutenant Ling.” 

“ Kim Ling not here ? ” I cried out. 

“ No.” 

“ Was he not appointed Secret Guardian of 
the Queen ? ” 

The man gazed at me open-mouthed. But 

- ' [ 239 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I burst on, regardless of his surprise. I could 
not lose Kim now. I could not go to the 
King ! 

“You are mistaken, Sir,” I pressed him. 
“ Ling was appointed to office here ; I saw his 
appointment, after asking the King myself that 
it be given to him.” 

The man fell backward from me, his eyes 
strained open wide ; then he answered me 
firmly and gravely (and I admired him for it): 

“ He is not and has not been here, Sir; but I 
am only Keeper of the Tomb. Have you 
looked for him at the Barracks ? ” 

The Tablet had fallen fairly into its place 
upon the sunken Tomb, without sign of crack 
or other mar. Directly upon it were laid the 
light sleepers of the little building now being 
erected. It was a handsome little structure 
of cedar wood in which the memorial tablets 
would be kept for inspection. The building 
was not intended as a temple, for the Temple 
of the Tomb had been built to be permanent, 
and there the sacrifices and incense would be 
burned. Thus I gazed around me while I tried 
to think of my next step. It was plain that 
this man, even if he knew, would not tell me 
[ 240] 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 


where Kim Ling was ; I doubted if he knew. 
But I made one more effort to get something 
out of him : 

“ Yes, I have been to the Barracks,” I replied 
with great lack of regard for the truth, “ but he 
left the Barracks on the night of the funeral. 
His commission took effect when the Queen 
was buried ; where else, then, would he be save 
here, — on Lynx Island?” 

But even my sarcasm was of no avail with 
this sturdy man. Yet the two talked a mo- 
ment behind my back. Then one said gently: 

“ Kim Ling’s Uncle Kysang is Ringer of the 
Bell ; he can tell you where Kim lives, and no 
doubt you can get scent of him there.” 

I was indebted to the men for this informa- 
tion, but I lingered for — well, for strength to 
take up the search. I leaned heavily upon the 
sweet new timbers just brought from the far-off 
mountains; I prayed to God then as I never 
had before, and as I prayed for the strength to 
find Dulcine and save her, there came, in the 
scent of the cedars, the memory of my boyhood 
home in dear old Vermont. I saw the hills 
and forests and heard the chatter of those clear 
brooks where the trout played; I felt once 
16 [ 24I ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

more the sweet damp of the woodlands, and a 
touch of the breeze which fans those cool 
Green Mountains from which I was now so 
far removed. And when I had thus rested a 
moment I wiped my damp eyes and pulled my- 
self together. 

I left the men in as good humor as possible, 
though I saw they thought I knew more than 
might have been expected, and rode carelessly 
back to the Barracks. I would find trace of 
Kim even if I met Oranoff himself. I called 
for Kim’s captain, but when he came I found 
he knew less than nothing. 

Kim Ling had disappeared from human 
sight ! 

From a soldier I learned where his mother 
and sister lived, and bolted out of the Barracks 
on that slight clue. At the gate I met one of 
my Legation boys. He knew me almost in- 
stantly, and ran up saying : 

“ Go slow ; I bring you pinge [letter] from 
Colonel Oranoff.” 

“ Bring it to the Great Bell,” said I, and I 
galloped on. 

The house of the Great Bell was locked, and 
the keeper was away. I was turning to leave 
[ 2 42 ] 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 


for Kim’s house, when my boy came hurrying 
up. He brought this letter : 

Mr. Robert Martyn: Your commission as Cap- 
tain in the Czar’s Cuirassiers is handed you herewith. 
I leave Tsi at daybreak for Port Arthur. There is 
some bad plotting going on here byTuen. I shall be 
better off in China, and there is much to be done there. 
I shall return on the “ Genki Maru,” touching Tsi 
the 27th. Shall return to Washington with you. 
You need not report at St. Petersburg before the 
spring manceuvers in May. Hastily but gratefully 
yours, 

Ivan Oranoff, Colonel 

This was dated the night of the Imperial 
Funeral. 

Then Oranoff had not received my decep- 
tive note. He was out of the country; and 
there were five days in which to get Dulcine 
from the Tomb, and to meet her father at Tsi. 
I hardly paused to thank the man for obtaining 
for me such an enviable commission in that most 
wonderful body of horse in the world. I know 
he was thinking as much of Dulcine as of me 
in doing so. 

I told my boy where I wished to go as nearly 
as I could, and he became my guide. At last 
[ 243 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

he paused before a door and spoke to a little 
girl playing near. 

It was Kim’s house. The girl called her 
mother, who told my boy that Kim had gone 
away the night of the funeral and would return 
home at stated times. He had not come yet, 
and they did not know when he would come. 
They were happy in his fortunate appoint- 
ment; but the news of the father’s death, 
though they had not seen him for two long 
years, brought a gloom which even the son’s 
promotion could not dispel. 

Here was the end of my last rope. I could 
learn nothing further of the disappearance of 
Kim Ling. 

I asked that news of his return be sent to 
his uncle, the old Ringer of the Bell, and I 
turned gloomily away. 

I would wait a little for Kim before I went to 
the King. Passing by an inn, I stopped long 
enough to write a note to the Russian minister, 
saying that I had gone on a little journey to 
the mountains, and would return to Keinning 
in time to take the boat on which Colonel 
Oranoff and his daughter would return from 
China. I also explained that Dulcine had 
[244] 


THE KEEPER OF THE TOMB 


joined her father at Tsi and had gone to Chefoo 
with him. 

Had a scorpion crawled out of the words, I 
could not have started more suddenly. The 
white lie I was telling was the very black lie the 
devil Menin told me ! And Oranoff had gone to 
Chefoo, as the trickster said ! I had not thought 
of that before. Now I thought and trembled. 

I am sure I should not have been blamed for 
doubting Dulcine here ; but I did not. Menin 
may have been right regarding Oranoff, and 
wrong concerning his daughter. No good liar 
fails to season his falsehoods with a pinch of 
truth. 

With half an oath and half a sob I — spent 
hound that I was — determined to cling to the 
track of the lost lad Kim, and I plodded on, 
trembling and exhausted, to the Bell House to 
wait. 

By only one thing was I cheered, — Colonel 
Oranoff’s absence. The feeling in that great 
city against us was growing intense. It would 
have been all his life was worth to walk these 
streets now. Yet I believe I wished a little 
that I could confess everything to him. This 
suspense was slow poison. 

[ 245 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE 


EMMILE 


HE old Ringer of the Bell was standing in 



the door of the Bell House as I came 


across the plaza to it. My boy told him some- 
thing of me, which made him very friendly ; to 
my surprise, he could speak some English. 
He had been an old servant at the British 
Legation before receiving his present appoint- 
ment, which was, to all native eyes, a most 
honorable one. He had obtained it through 
the influence of his brother, General Ling. 

I remained with old Kysang from that even- 
ing until the following night at midnight, and 
as I look back on them, those hours were by 
far the darkest in all my Quelpartien experi- 
ence. Since Kim could not be found, I must 
await his return. There was nothing else to 
do, — that is, unless I went to the King. This 
I determined I would not do for at least one 
more night. I sent my boy again to Kim’s 


[ 246 ] 


EMMILE 

house to make sure that word would be sent 
me upon Kim’s arrival. He returned affirming 
that my wish would be obeyed, bringing also 
the information that Kim’s mother was afraid 
of me, and that Kim was now away longer than 
he had expected to be. 

If Kim was delayed, for how long would it 
be? I trembled to think that Tuen might 
have entrapped the son as he had the father ! 
If so, I was wasting each moment I waited for 
him, and would better go to the King this very 
night. By force of will I decided not to go 
until midnight of the following night. If Kim 
came not by that time, I would hurry immedi- 
ately to the Russian Legation, where the King 
would be with his Cabinet, throw myself at his 
feet, and tell all. 

And how did I live through the terrible 
hours intervening? In other circumstances 
my stay of thirty hours within that Bell House 
listening to the tales of old Kysang would 
have been of utmost interest. The house was, 
perhaps, fifteen feet square and twenty feet 
high. It was latticed on the sides, and roofed 
overhead. In one corner Kysang had a little 
room and a fire. Here I lay, sleeping or smok- 

[247] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

in g desperately, while listening to the old man’s 
talk. 

In the center of the house hung the Great 
Bell of Keinning. It was twelve feet high, 
and more than half as broad at the mouth. It 
was made of a strange composition of metals, 
chiefly iron. It hung suspended from two 
heavy beams and had no tongue, being struck 
by a great beam hung on heavy chains. And 
when this beam was drawn back by the old 
Ringer and crashed down upon the Bell, a 
sound, the like of which one will hear no- 
where else in the world, goes out over the great 
city, echoing among the surrounding moun- 
tains. The composition of metals in the bell, 
and the effect of being struck by a wooden, 
instead of an iron, tongue, give to its tone a 
peculiar quality, which is likely to preserve for- 
ever the terrible legend which has come down 
the centuries with it. The sound is plain- 
tive and pathetic, from whatever part of the 
city you hear it, — as if it were, in reality, the 
death-cry of a child. 

The dynasty to which Whang-Su belonged 
began one hundred years before Columbus dis- 
covered America, so old Kysang affirmed in 
[ 248 ] 


EMMILE 


telling the story of the Great Bell. I thought 
I could have told pretty nearly when it should 
have ended, if myths be true, but I held my 
peace and smoked on. Each new dynasty 
must have a new capital; so the new King 
sent out three wise men to locate the site of his 
capital. These wise men, like all wise men, fell 
into a dispute, but on awakening one morning, 
they found a narrow line of snow which formed 
a circle just here in the plain of Phan River. 
Providence had settled the question, and had 
indicated the propitious spot by this band of 
snow. 

On this circle the work of excavating for 
the foundation of the city wall immediately be- 
gan. One day a workman struck his pick in a 
metal substance. Digging carefully around it, 
he soon brought to light a small iron bell of 
perfect proportions. The discovery was noised 
abroad, and the King ordered the bell brought 
to the palace. Immediately a proclamation 
went forth that a gigantic bell should be cast 
to hang in the center of the capital, each of 
the twenty provinces being asked to furnish 
one-twentieth of the metal, that it might truly 
be a national bell. 


[249] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Messengers were sent riding forth to each 
province to bring the metal to the great mould 
which was being prepared at Keinning. Each 
province contributed its share gladly, and soon 
the King appointed a day for the casting. The 
nation assembled with the King and Court on 
the hillside above the molten mass of metal. At 
the raising of the Queen’s hand the mould was 
filled. After a feast the Great Bell was lifted 
on mighty chains to hang before all the people. 
But, even as the cheers of the thousands went 
up, a loud report was heard which silenced the 
tumultuous applause. 

The side of the Bell had cracked ! 

Confusion reigned in the Court, and the 
King’s face was white with mingled anger 
and fear as he proclaimed that the Bell would 
be recast on the morrow, and sent the people 
running to their temples to pray. 

On the morrow a greater concourse gath- 
ered ; a greater feast was prepared. Again the 
metal was heated, hotter than before. Again, 
at the Queen’s signal, the great mould was filled, 
the feast was enjoyed, and the Bell was lifted 
from the mould. 

And with a mightier report again it burst 
[250] 


EMM1LE 


asunder. The King and his nobles fell on 
their faces. The people rushed away now of 
their own accord, as fleeing from the very 
wrath of the gods. 

Yet one of all those thousands stood still. 
With an agonized face upturned this man beat 
his breast and walked onward, alone, up toward 
his prostrate King. Nearing the great dais 
built on the greensward, he fell on the ground. 
A nobleman turned the King’s eye to him, and 
at a signal he arose. 

“ Sire, I was a gatherer of metal in Rang-do. 
As I went through a little village I asked for 
metal at each hut. In one, darker than the 
rest, I uttered my request. Whereupon an old 
woman replied, from the gloom : ‘ I have no 
metal, but take this,’ and she unbound a babe 
from her back and held it out to me. I laughed 
and went on. But as I went, the woman cursed 
the Bell.” 

The Court arose at these words, and all 
exclaimed : 

“ A witch has cursed the Bell ! ” 

Then the King set another day for the cast- 
ing, and ordered that the witch and her child 
be found. The man was raised from the 

[251 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

ground, to which he had fallen in anguish and 
terror, and, with a troop of horsemen, rode rap- 
idly off into the mountains. The prayers of a 
nation followed them and brought them safely 
back. 

And now the green hillside witnessed again 
the assembling of the nation, — for everywhere 
the strange tale had gone. Even the lame 
and the blind came, and the great white-robed 
concourse formed another semi-circle about the 
molten crater. On the dais, again spread with 
tiger-skins, sat the King and the Queen. The 
Court in gorgeous apparel again waited. 

Just as the Queen arose to give the signal 
for the filling of the mould, a strange form was 
seen running through the crowds of people. 
All eyes turned to it. 

It was the witch. 

On she ran. Reaching the red-hot crater, 
she unloosened a babe from her back and 
looked upward to the dais. With a wave of 
her white fingers the Queen gave the terrible 
command, and the babe was cast headlong into 
the boiling maelstrom of heated iron. 

As it went downward its plaintive cry rang 
out, and all the people heard : 

[252] 


EMMILfi 

“Emmile, Emmile — O mother! O mother 
mine ! ” 

It is said that that cry was heard in every 
part of the kingdom, and not a mother but 
shuddered and turned quickly to her sleeping 
babe. 

Then the great mould was filled, but the 
people waited in silence for the cooling of the 
Bell, and feasted not. The chains straightened 
and lifted it again in air. 

A nation held its breath. The moments 
passed. But the Bell remained whole. The 
life-blood of the babe had proven the rare flux 
needed to cement its ponderous sinews. Cheer 
upon cheer arose, and the King proclaimed a 
holiday. A wooden beam was garlanded and 
hung to strike the Bell. At the King’s com- 
mand it was swung back and descended. 

But what sound came forth ? Only the cry 
of the burning babe : 

“ Emmile ! Emmile ! ” 

And the Queen fainted where she stood. 

During a part of the time garrulous Kysang 
talked, I slept. There was nothing I could 
do before the time I had set to go to the King 
[ 253 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

but sleep, and there was nothing I needed to 
do more. The booming of the Great Bell at 
midnight of my first night with Kysang awoke 
me with a fright I had never felt in my life 
before. 

“ O Mother ! O Mother mine ,” the iron mon- 
ster cried, and a thousand mothers of Quel- 
parte unconsciously turned in their sleep, and 
drew closer the infants beside them. And old 
Kysang, believing implicitly that the cry was 
that of the murdered babe, lovingly stroked 
the quivering metal with his bony hand and 
crooned a plaintive lullaby. 

On the second night I awoke with a fright- 
ened sob, as the great beam swept again 
through the air and announced midnight. 

Yet I arose determinedly, shook old Kysang’s 
hand roughly, and started for the door. 

There my Legation boy Pak almost ran 
into me. 

“Colonel — Oranoff — has — come — hurt 
— very — badly — ” he panted. 


[ 254] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX 


A NEW DEJNEFF 

A T the Legation plaza I found Dejneff 
striding up and down in the dark con- 
suming a black cigar. I needed nothing more 
to make me sure that something was wrong. 

When I came up he stopped quickly in his 
tracks. While he was growling out some 
Russian ^aths with his usual zest, I could see 
that he was not the same gruff old Dejneff. 
There were so many things I wanted to ask 
him that I was at a loss which to ask first, and 
yet I did not forget that there was one question 
which I must not permit him to ask me ; I 
did not want him to mention Dulcine. 

“ Oranoff is here ? ” I seized his coat sleeve 
as I spoke the words. He took the cigar out 
of his mouth and nodded dumbly. The 
grizzled warrior, always ready before with an 
oath or gruff laugh, only nodded, now, to this 
the most serious question I ever asked a man. 

[255 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Lights were moving up and down in the 
Legation, but the King’s wing was dark as the 
night, and I wondered how it was that Whang- 
Su was not meeting his Cabinet as of yore. 

The whole place seemed unnatural. I shook 
myself and repeated the question to Dejneff, 
and now he found his voice: 

“ Oranoff, or his ghost.” The man’s breath 
left him with those four words. But soon he 
found it and continued: “We were coming 
in from the Imperial Mausoleum after dusk, 
a few Cossacks and myself, and near the Great 
Bell we ran into a street fight. The crowd 
scattered as we dashed up, and there on the 
ground lay Colonel Oranoff. We brought him 
to the Legation. For a time he was uncon- 
scious, and when at last he came around he 
did not know where he was, and attempted to 
get out of his bed and go away ; the Cossacks 
pulled him back, and he lies there now like a 
tiger. I am afraid he has been hurt on the 
head, and it has struck in.” 

Dejneff spoke like a child, and it was plain 
that he was all knocked up. 

I was pushing on toward the Legation door 
as we talked, dragging Dejneff with me. I 
[ 256] 


A NEW DEJNEFF 

feared that I could not see Oranoff. We had 
reached the great door now, and I felt sure 
that Dejneff had not told me all the truth. 

“ Come, old man,” I said, taking him sternly 
by the lapel of his great-coat ; “ what ’s up ? 
How did Oranoff come to Keinning, and how 
was he hurt ? ” I could not go on until I 
knew more. 

“ Damn me if I know, Martyn ; go see for 
yourself.” 

I dragged him into my room. I did not 
know whether I wanted to go to Oranoff yet 
or not. While Pak was getting the brandy and 
soda, we sat looking at each other in silence, 
though Dejneff swung himself around and 
around in his chair every half-minute with a 
deep sigh. 

As we waited, the interior of that room 
brought back a score of painful memories. 
Here I had conceived and carried into execu- 
tion this reckless travesty which, for all I knew 
now, was to cost several of us our lives. I 
remembered what Oranoff had once said about 
peace costing the Czar the lives of his best ; if 
Oranoff had been permanently injured, a good 
life had surely been wrecked in Quelparte to 

17 [ 257 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

avert a war with Japan ! Even the pictures on 
which I had hung some of those silk garments 
were still askew, and the chair stood before the 
fireplace just where it had stood when I told 
Dulcine that story of Lynx Island. As I 
thought of Dulcine I shuddered — for fear 
Dejneff would speak of her ! What could 
they think of her absence with Colonel Oranoff 
in such a condition? But might it not be that 
even this was fortunate ? I tried to think it 
was. 

The liquor did something toward making 
men of us again, — being good for all poisons. 
Dejneff was quite himself, and my presence 
seemed to give him confidence. 

“ This protectorate business has been going 
all against the grain,” he said at last, with a 
nod toward the King’s wing of the Legation. 
I remembered that it was dark. “ It ’s set the 
people against us, which explains this attack 
on Oranoff.” 

I was thinking it was Tuen’s revenge. 

“ Has the King heard of it ? ” I asked. 

“ No, the King has left.” 

I started. 

“What do you mean, Dejneff ? ” 

[ 258 ] 


A NEW DEJNEFF 

“ Oh, the people thought we had him here, 
and had put the screws on him to pull through 
this protectorate, and the Cabinet made him 
clear out for the new palace.” 

“ He has gone already ? ” 

“ He went to-night ; we could n’t keep him, 
and we did n’t want him either.” 

So here was the end of my plan to see the 
King to-night; in fact, I doubted whether I 
could ever see him alone now, hedged in as 
he probably was by the swarm of officials at 
the palace. But Oranoff could. I must see 
Oran off ! 

While we talked of the King, Dejneff was 
quite his old self, but the moment I spoke of 
Oranoff he cringed and failed me. I could 
not be balked, and would not. 

“ I must see Oranoff, Dejneff, right away, 
and I will ; I wish you would go and do what 
you can for me.” The words seemed to take 
the strength out of him, but he saw I was in 
earnest, and he arose unsteadily and started 
for the door. 

“ But, Dejneff,” I added, rising with him, 
“ don’t let anybody know I am here or have 
been here; not even Dulcine.” How I got 

[ 259] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

those words out my lips I cannot tell ; yet I 
said them, and they stopped him in his tracks. 
But after standing still a moment glaring 
down his nose into his beard, he left me with- 
out a word. 

“ He does not dare to tell me Dulcine has 
not returned,” I said, as I dropped again upon 
my bed. 

Pak came in some time after Dejneff had 
left and took away the empty glasses. When 
he came back I was donning my best and 
brightest uniform. Pak assisted me for a time 
in silence, but at last he could not contain him- 
self, and the poor lad burst into tears, much to 
my surprise and to his own great shame. 

I soon learned that the servants knew of the 
attack on Oranoff. They were all frightened ; 
some had even left the Legation, fearing a 
mob would attack us. But Pak was weeping 
because Oranoff was injured, and more particu- 
larly because no one knew what was the matter 
with him. 

“ Won’t you get Hu Mok now ? ” he at last 
said to me, drying his face on his coat-tails. 
“Hu Mok can tell what’s the matter with any- 
body,” he went on, uninterrupted ; “ last moon 
[ 260 ] 


A NEW DEJNEFF 

a man was very sick in Chulla province, and 
no one knew what was the matter. Hu Mok 
went down there with his stone and put it on 
the man and looked in and he saw a dog. ‘ Has 
this man been bitten by a dog ? ’ Hu Mok 
asked right away. The man’s wife said, ‘Yes, 
he was bitten by a dog last winter.’ Hu Mok 
says, ‘ Oho, the man will bubble at the mouth 
and bark like a dog and die ; tie him down, 
and don’t let him bite you.’ And the man 
died barking and bubbling at the mouth that 
same moon.” 

“ I will see about Hu Mok, Pak,” I said, con- 
ciliating him; “ I am going to see Colonel 
Oranoff now.” 

For Dejneff was at the door. 


[261] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN 


“ ORANOFF ” 

I T was beginning to grow light in the east 
as I went down to the room where Colonel 
Oranoff lay. I have often wanted to measure 
the length of the great hall of the Legation, 
for I remember it as being no less than a 
day’s long march, measured by such thoughts 
as those which were in my mind that morning. 
I went as a man might walk to the scaffold, 
thinking of a year of his wasted life while he 
took each step toward that life’s quick end. 

Yet I went as a man justified at the bar 
of his own conscience. True, I might have 
adopted different courses than those I had 
chosen since the destruction of the Queen’s 
body. I might have asked Kepneff to bring 
me straight from Lynx Island to Tsi, and 
then telegraphed Oranoff the whole truth ; 
but the little “ Dulcette ” had not arrived 
yet from Han Chow, and I would not have 
[ 262 ] 


“ORANOFF 


come in time for the funeral ! I might have 
told Oranoff the truth when Dulcine told him 
my lie in my very hearing; but I thought 
the lie was better and safer then than the 
truth ! I might have chosen not to let Dul- 
cine find a woman to play the Queen, but 
that seemed then almost my only course, at 
least the safest course. I could have refused 
to follow the dare-devil Menin from the dais. 
But I could not have avoided the providential 
escape forced upon me by the falling of my 
horse, nor could I have done more than I had 
to find a way to release Dulcine from the dark 
prison where she lay — unless I had been will- 
ing to tell the whole tale to the King before 
first trying another alternative. 

When I reached the door Dejneff held open, 
I was as ready to meet Oranoff as I had con- 
tinually been ready to answer every question 
my conscience had thus far raised. True, I 
trembled ; but innocent men do that some- 
times. I trembled at the thought of Dulcine. 
I trembled for fear her father had been seri- 
ously hurt. How came he here? Had he 
failed to clear the country before the storm 
broke? Or had he learned of Dulcine’s ab- 
[ 263 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

sence and returned to throw his life away be- 
cause I had lost her so completely? Was it 
any wonder that he was out of his mind? 

We went forward softly through the salon to 
the dimly lighted apartment beyond. Several 
men — Russian army surgeons — were stand- 
ing in the center of the room looking at the 
bed, their hands on their weapons. My eyes 
followed theirs, but at first I could hardly see, 
coming as I had from a darkened hall. Then 
some one turned up the lights. 

A gendarme was kneeling on the edge of 
the bed holding its occupant under him. And 
he was having his way, for presently, with a 
strange cry, the man underneath sank back 
to the pillows. I heard the click of handcuffs 
and knew the struggle had been precipitated 
at the sight of such cruel fetters. Then the 
guard went off the bed and stood watch near 
by. 

A way was tacitly made for me, and I ap- 
proached the bedside quietly, though I never 
took steps before or since so regretfully. 

For a full minute I gazed downward speech- 
less and dumfounded upon the face of — 
Sahib Menin ! 


[ 264] 


“ORANOFF 


The werewolf had played Ivan Oranoff once 
too often ! 

For a moment I could not speak. Then, 
mad with revenge, I leaned over the man, who 
I knew was watching me through half-closed 
eyes, and I lifted the false imperial swiftly from 
his face, and holding it aloft, I turned to the 
astonished men behind me, saying: 

“ Gentlemen, let me present a hell-hound of 
Prince Tuen’s, Sahib Menin.” 

Their exclamations were lost on my ears — 
but, oh! the oath hissed into that pillow did 
my heart a great good ! 

The daylight bade me hasten, for I could 
not remain in the Legation without Dulcine, 
and Ling must be found or I must go to the 
King. 

“You made a fast run to Chefoo, Sahib 
Menin,” I said. 

“ Peste ! ” he growled, “ as fast as your mes- 
sage went there.” 

The villain was unmasked. He spoke now, 
as fierce and domineering as ever in that 
mountain hut. It made my blood boil ! But 
I swallowed my anger and determined to play 
with my defiant mouse a bit. 

[ 265 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ Instead, you came here, sharpened the 
teeth of your trap, and stuck your own leg 
in it;” and I laughed as heartily as though 
laughter and not groans had been my whole 
portion of late. But Menin laughed too, — 
that same hellish grin, — and I wanted to 
spring at his throat. 

“ Where is your launch ? ” I asked quickly, 
for I could not beat the bush longer; “tell the 
truth now for once ; I promise you will pay 
dear for each lie.” 

“ At Chefoo,” he answered calmly. 

“Then, Sir,” — and I had determined up- 
on my course anticipating this lying reply, 
— “in an hour Admiral Holstrem of the 
Russian fleet will have your boat found and 
searched.” 

The man’s eyes were coals of fire. 

“ Then he will find a dead woman in it.” 

I had turned away, but this drove me back, 
mad. 

“ Then, by the Lord God, I will come back 
and shoot you where you lie till you are dead,” 
I cried and turned on my heel again. 

“So my life is worth more to you than 
hers ? ” The reply, half a reflection, half a 
[ 266 ] 


“ORANOFF” 


question, unnerved me utterly, but I strode on 
toward the door determinedly. 

Did ever a man ache as I did at that mo- 
ment ? If Menin let me go now, it was be- 
cause either his men did not have Dulcine or 
he was ready to die the death I named (if, as 
he had said, his life was worth more to me 
than hers ! ). And here he had me. By the 
Lord, if he, my prisoner, was not the master 
still ! 

I thought all this out as I strode to the cur- 
tains of the salon door, but there I turned and 
looked back. I could not help it. 

And all the answer the dare-devil gave me 
was that hellish laugh. Hark ! I can hear it 
now, — loud, clear, defiant, and ending in an 
unknown oath ! 

I went on, for I could not stop without con- 
fessing the mastery of his position. In the 
writing room I found blanks and began formu- 
lating my message to the Admiral. And I 
wrote and destroyed and rewrote that single 
message. The question finally resolved itself 
to just this: Did I dare to trust that Dulcine 
had refused to open the Sarcophagus at any 
other signal than the one she had promised to 
[267] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

obey? Of course it was possible that Menin 
had given this signal of ours accidentally, but I 
had long ago resolved not to consider this ex- 
traordinary fatal coincidence. 

So I clung desperately to my theory that 
Dulcine had never been released, based wholly 
upon my faith in her. But it was foolhardy 
to run useless risks, and my hand dropped 
nerveless when I strove to sign Oranoff’s 
name to the order I had written. 

As I lay on the table perplexed, a happy 
alternative occurred to me. I could at least 
prove Menin’s words concerning the presence 
of his launch off Chefoo, and in a moment I 
substituted this query for the order I could 
not dare to send : 

Admiral Holstrem, Chefoo : 

Advise at once if two-masted steam launch is 
anchored in either inner or outer harbor Chefoo. 

Oranoff per Martyn. 

I quickly reduced this to cipher and had it 
sent singing on its way. 

Then I went back to my mouse. It would 
be an hour before I could nail Menin’s first 
lie. And I thought of other things to ask 
him. 


[ 268 ] 


“ORAN OFF” 


“ In an hour, Sahib Menin, your lies will be 
thrown back in your teeth,” I began ; “ in the 
meantime you will do well if you tell the 
truth” 

“Jamie l but you are a fool,” he growled; 
“ think you Prince Tuen’s private launch will 
be overhauled and searched like a pirate’s 
junk ? ” 

I ignored the words in proportion as they 
affected me. For the first time Menin con- 
fessed Tuen to be his master! 

“ Aye, and sunk at its berth, if your words 
prove true,” I retorted. 

“ Oh, but you are a fool,” the man snarled, 
and turned over to his pillow, ignoring my 
presence absolutely. 

I began to feel now that I dealt, in truth, 
with no common villain, and also, with a gust 
of anger, that I played poor hands as master. 
However false Menin was otherwise, he was 
truly genuine in his disgust at my boyish 
bravado. I had the wit to retire to my own 
room and sleep until my answer came. 

My boy brought it and aroused me; with 
shaking hand I translated the words one by 
one and glared at the result: 

[ 269] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

None but Tuen’s private yacht, which just put out 
to sea. Holstrem. 

With this in my hand I rushed back to 
Oranoff’s suite. 

“Your yacht has left Chefoo, Sahib,” I 
ripped out now angrily. 

“ Because the message it was awaiting was 
not sent.” The devil drawled the words with- 
out taking his head from the pillows or look- 
ing at me. 

“ Where has it gone ? ” I demanded, exas- 
perated. 

“ To Shanghai.” 

“ Are you ready to send word to have the 
prisoner delivered there to the Russian min- 
ister ? ” 

“ Are you ready to go to the King and tell 
him the Imperial Mausoleum is empty ? ” 

“ I ’ll see you in hell first,” I burst out, 
crazed by the beast’s impudence. 

The man now sat up in bed. 

“ Hark, fool ; Shanghai is the last place I 
can catch them ; if they do not hear from me 
there, they will go up the river and peddle 
their freight in the opium dens of the Yangtse.” 

This was too overdone. 

[ 270] 


“ORANOFF” 


Menin had played me for a youth to advan- 
tage, but this blasphemous threat was too 
plainly a desperate dernier resort. 

It chilled the blood in my veins, but I 
was steeled against chilled blood now, and I 
sneered : 

“ Bah ! you are too much of a coward to 
face the consequences of that” With this cut- 
ting thrust — unjust, indeed, for Menin was as 
brave a devil as ever breathed — I left the 
room. 

I was wasting time there and strength too. 
I had made up my mind to find Kim before 
I dickered more with Menin. Until I was 
sure Dulcine was not in the Imperial Mauso- 
leum, I should believe she had kept perfect 
faith with me, and act on that belief. 

I left the Legation as secretly as I had come, 
and went back to old Kysang. 


[271 ] 


CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT 


KIM 


S I made my way through the waking city, 



f\ my bright uniform attracted much at- 
tention, and I was glad enough to find Kysang 
at the Bell House, and in the little room where 
Kim’s uncle lived I found a welcome retreat. 
It was evident that I was not safe in Keinning 
now without a goodly body of Cossacks about 
me. Even the sly Menin, master-trickster, had 
been attacked and would have been killed had 
not Dejneff scattered his assailants. 

Worn out utterly, it was not difficult for me 
to decide to rest for the day in Kysang’s warm 
corner; and, anxious beyond telling though I 
was to reach Dulcine, I determined to gain a 
little of the strength I needed, and then, Kim 
failing me, I would go that night to the King. 
I knew I could not see him until night, and I 
did not know, I confessed with a sob, whether 
I could do so, even at the most appropriate 
time. 


[ 272 ] 


KIM 


Kysang gave me his softest mat and I fell on 
it despairingly, for it seemed near a crime for 
me to sleep now. Yet there in the center of 
the great city, the tramp of hundreds of san- 
daled feet sounding continuously in my ears, 
I slept, and started into wakefulness with fright- 
ened cries, and then fell asleep again, through- 
out the long day. If possible, my dreams were 
as harrowing as my waking thoughts. 

As often as I awoke, I found Kysang or 
faithful Pak at my side ; Pak was indefatigable 
in my interest, bringing me, among other things, 
a basket of luscious persimmons which grow 
twice the size in Quelparte that they do in 
America, and amply repay one’s effort to learn 
to like them. Whenever I see this fruit now 
I remember that dreary day I spent in the 
little Bell House in Keinning — and Kysang’s 
watch. 

Some oldtime'friend of the Bell-ringer at the 
English Legation had presented Kysang with 
a cast-off watch which renewed the old man’s 
desire of long life. It was a plain, silver, open- 
case affair, with a crystal monstrous thick, but 
no youth with his first stem-winder was ever 
so pleased as was Kysang with this. For the 
*8 [ 273 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

first few days he carried it in his hands, partly 
through fear that it would suffer accident else- 
where, and partly because the Quelpartien male 
attire is innocent of pockets. Whatever a 
Quelpartien wishes to carry with him goes into 
a little cloth, leather, or chamois bag which 
swings ever at his loins. Kysang was carrying 
it still in his hand, but Kim’s mother had made 
him a little pocket in his under-coat, which came 
early in the day, and soon he was finding what 
a marvelous nuisance pockets were. Kysang 
was continually putting in or taking out his 
watch, for he could not turn about without look- 
ing at it. He timed himself at all tasks, 
and became enthusiastic when I showed 
him how to count his pulse, finding that it 
moved faster after he had been exercising 
than before. 

There was a clock in the little brick hotel 
across the square, and often he would saunter 
over and compare his watch with it. In one of 
my waking hours he confided to me gleefully, 
but in a low tone, that the clock in the hotel 
did not “ get around as fast as his watch,” — 
a fact that elated him immensely. Before night 
he told me that in a week his watch would go 
[ 274 ] 


KIM 


around almost twice as many times as that 
clock. 

“ Then they would be just together again, 
would n’t they ? ” I asked him. This was a 
puzzler, and he pulled out his watch and sat 
down, looking at it thoughtfully. Finally he 
coincided with my notion and affirmed that he 
could, however, keep careful score and be able 
to tell just how many times around he was ahead 
of the clock. His idea seemed to be that the 
fastest watch, like the fastest horse, was the best. 

I laid him more deeply in my debt by show- 
ing him the regulator and explaining that he 
could make the watch go faster or slower, as he 
chose. He could not understand why one 
could wish to make a watch go more slowly, 
whereupon I drew on his idea of fast horses, 
and he admitted that it was not best to keep a 
horse always traveling at his prettiest speed. 
Following my idea, he slowed his watch up once 
or twice a day, though this made him nervous, 
and he went over to the clock oftener for fear 
it would get ahead. 

Kysang could not understand why there 
should be an arbitrary rule concerning the 
numbers on the watch’s face. I once tried to 

[275 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

explain the length of the day and the rise and 
setting of the sun, but he objected so often and 
with such shrewdness, insisting, for instance, 
that some days were much longer than others, 
that I got out of the argument only by dint of 
a series of long words which completely silenced 
him. As to having twenty-four figures on the 
face, he could not see why this would not be a 
distinct improvement. The larger the face, the 
better Kysang said he would be suited. He 
was a little put out because the clock in the 
hotel struck the hours, and his watch did not. 
Could n’t they put in a little bell ? Another 
thing which troubled him was that the clock 
was wound up only once a week, and his watch 
had to be wound daily ; this, on the face of it, 
was a reflection on the watch. 

So I found myself delivering a dissertation 
on watch-springs. I told Kysang of the Ameri- 
can sailor who took his fine gold watch to a 
Japanese jeweler to be put in order, and who 
found after getting it back that it would run in 
fair, but not in cloudy, weather. Kysang was 
as puzzled as the sailor ; the Japanese had put 
in a bamboo main-spring which swelled when 
the air was damp. 


[ 276] 


KIM 


Thus the day passed in a sort of waking 
sleep — with now and then a new develop- 
ment in Kysang s moving eccentricities. The 
watch made him forget his legends, even, until 
the night came. But no sooner had I asked 
him about the little lake in the palace grounds 
near by, than he began to tell of the strange 
Hon-pyung Sa-ryung-bu, or pond, near the 
Home Department, where the frogs have never 
croaked throughout the livelong years since 
one Kang Kam-ch’al gagged their mouths with 
straw. 

Kang was only a clerk in the Home Depart- 
ment, but he was so good that even the beasts 
of the field obeyed him ; consequently the high- 
est men in the land feared him. At one time 
the frogs in the little lake beside the building 
croaked so loudly that Kang could bear with 
them no longer. He then wrote the following 
on a piece of paper : 

“ This is a government office, where noise 
cannot be tolerated, for it interferes with work. 
Instead of remembering this and keeping silence, 
out of gratitude for our giving you this pond 
to live in, you keep up this horribly sad croak- 
ing, which seems to be the only voice Heaven 

[ 277] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

conferred upon you. But it must cease. If 
you do not stop, we shall have to discipline you/’ 

Kang threw this letter into the pond, and 
with it an armful of chopped straw. Straight- 
way upon reading the letter every frog seized a 
piece of chopped straw and held it in his mouth, 
like the Quelpartien boy who is gagged in 
school when he does not repeat the characters 
well. From that day to this not a frog has 
croaked beside the Home Department, though 
the pond is full of them. 

But poor Kang came to a bad end. At that 
time the King’s son-in-law, Cho Ta-rim, was a 
shocking scapegrace who lived inside the South 
Gate under Nam-san. This youth had the 
effrontery to ask the King to build him a golden 
bridge from his house to one of the spurs of the 
mountain. 

Shocked at the profligate’s request, Kang 
boldly memorialized the Throne that he be put 
to death. This raised a tempest, and Kang 
was seized and condemned to death. He was 
bound to a cart to be driven to his execution, 
according to custom, with his crime pasted in 
great letters upon his back, “ Arch- traitor” 
But when Cho Ta-rim’s friends attempted to 
[278] 


KIM 


start the cart, the bullocks could not move it an 
inch. More bullocks were yoked on, but to no 
effect. 

Then Kang, the criminal, laughed and said, 
“ If you will remove this accusation from my 
back and write instead ‘ Arch-patriot ,’ the cart 
will go.” 

For a time the angry crowd would not listen, 
but at last when they obeyed Kang’s words 
the cart moved easily to the place of execution, 
where the villainous sentence was carried out 
with added zest because of Kang’s laughter 
and his magic power. 

“ If you don’t believe this,” said Kysang, as he 
finished, “ go some summer night to the Home 
Department and listen for frogs at the Hon- 
pyung Sa-ryung-bu.” 

As night came on, I thought more and more 
of my prisoner at the Legation, of his bold 
playing and his villainous threat. What would 
Oranoff say when he knew that Menin was in 
his hands ? As I slept a little now and then, 
I even dreamed of Dulcine as prisoner on 
Tuen’s palatial yacht; yet when I woke I was 
surer than ever that to trust her perfectly was 
my only course, and I felt a new courage com- 

[279] 


THE QUEEN OF QUEL PARTE 

in g into me as the night thickened and the 
hour of action came nearer. 

How little I knew into what sphere my activ- 
ities would be called ! 

No word came from Kim’s house, and as 
midnight drew near (Kysang’s brave watch 
hurried it on apace !), I was planning another 
meeting with the King. I waited patiently 
until Kysang’s old bell gave its thunderous 
alarm to the sleeping city, and then arose and 
went to the door without a word. 

But there stood a woman in white. Oh, I 
shall never forget that face, blanched with the 
most deadly fear. 

I looked, and saw it was Kim’s mother ! 

I went quickly toward her. Kim had come ! 
She had brought me the good news ! The one 
man who must know of Dulcine and her con- 
dition was now within reach, and I knew he 
would tell me of her safety and help me release 
her. 

I breathed a prayer of thanksgiving from a 
thankful heart. 

But all the time that white face stared wildly 
upon me. What could that mean ? The 
woman came nearer, then quickly ran round 
[ 280 ] 


KIM 


me and entered Kysang’s room. She fell across 
the threshold as the old man was coming out, 
and lay sobbing her message in his, arms. 

Then he rose and came tottering forward. 
The little lantern partly lighted the space be- 
tween us, but I could see the man’s face was 
very pale. 

“ Kim has come, has he, Kysang ? ” I cried 
in anguish. The man groaned. 

The woman sat up and leaned against the 
partition of the room, and I never saw a sadder 
face. 

“ Aye, yes, boy ; Kim has come,” the old man 
sobbed. 

And then he burst into tears, and, putting his 
face in his arms, groaned and spoke to himself 
as though he could not believe it. Then he 
looked up, feeling, I think, the misery I felt. 
And he did not lessen it as he said : 

“ Yes, Kim has come, but it is Kim no more. 
Emmile ! ” he sobbed, “ Emmile ! Emmile ! ” 

Kysang picked up the woman and went out, 
and I followed the two through the black streets, 
though I could get no further word from them ; 
they groaned at every step. 

It was all too strange, almost, to frighten me 
[ 281 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

— and yet I was frightened. What were their 
groans but words of fear and terror? What 
did they mean by saying Kim had come but it 
was not Kim ? 

In my despair I fled on the faster through 
the smoky blackness, pressing upon their heels. 
I had waited in most poignant distress all these 
hours, and at the end had come this wild scene 
in the bell-house, these groans and tears, these 
signs of terror and despair ! 

The fresh air and exercise aroused the 
woman, and taking the man’s hand she now 
pressed on faster through a perfect maze of 
narrow streets filled with smoke. As Quel- 
partiens build their fires beneath the floors, the 
chimneys empty into the gutters, and on damp 
nights the narrower streets are choked with 
smoke. 

Yet the smoke smelled better than anything 
else. 

As I pushed on, I asked many questions. 
Some I asked of the man before me. Some I 
asked myself; but to none could I get or give 
any answer. I wondered if this tumult could 
have been occasioned by Kim’s loss of position. 
Might it not be that the boy already had sacri- 
[ 282 ] 


KIM 


ficed himself and his station for us? Had he 
already found Dulcine and saved her ? This 
was too good to be true by any possibility. 
He could not have known the identity of the 
white form we together had borne into the 
Throne Room that night, nor would he have read 
the message he brought me from Dulcine. He 
could not have known that the fall of the great 
tablet had buried her within the Queen’s Mau- 
soleum. And yet I remembered with a start 
that Prince Tuen’s wily servants had known all 
this, at least they had guessed it all and had 
acted swiftly and triumphantly on the basis of 
their supposition. 

But while I struggled with these fears and 
hopes, we came to Kim’s house, where an ex- 
cited crowd had gathered. Talk ran high and 
was sensational in its nature. I told Pak, who 
followed behind me, to remain without and listen 
to all that was said. 

I pushed on after Kysang and the mother. 
First I saw the little sister lying on the floor 
shrieking loudly. There was no one else in the 
room. The mother led Kysang to a doorway 
beyond, and the two looked through, but neither 
crossed the threshold. Soon Kysang turned 
[283] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

back with a terrible groan. He came to me, 
and as he came he sobbed pitifully : 

“ What have you done — what have you 
done?” 

I saw he at once associated my relations to 
Kim with the youth’s present condition. I was 
utterly unnerved, but I went forward quickly 
when once they made way for me, and I en- 
tered without stopping at the door. 

There Kim sat on the floor leaning against 
the wall — and they were right ; it was not Kim. 
His hair was as white as snow. His eyes were 
staring dully out of distended sockets. The 
fine, grave face was distorted out of every 
original proportion. He had gone away a 
sober, manly servant of the King. He was now 
returned, — a white-haired, gaping idiot ! 

My anguish was of a selfish tinge, but it was 
no less genuine. Beside myself with terror, I 
fell prostrate at the man’s feet. He had looked 
up at me, as I entered the room, with a per- 
fectly blank expression of face. As I sank be- 
fore him the head tipped forward foolishly. 

“ Kim, lad, you know me, you must know 
me ! ” I cried. 

The boy answered not a word. I grasped 
[284] 


















































































« 














KIM 


his ankles — and they were trembling. I felt 
his hands — they were cold and were shaking, 
too. He was trembling all over. Fright had 
imbalanced his mind. 

I kept on pleading with him, but to no pur- 
pose. He sat in a trembling lethargy, and I 
could not arouse the staggered brain. But I 
remembered my only alternative, and stood up 
quickly and shut the door in those staring faces. 

I was desperate. Failure here and now 
meant a confession to the King. I could not, 
would not, fail. I felt if I could get one hint 
from Kim, Dulcine might be saved. I felt in- 
stinctively that his condition was attributable 
in some way to the terrible farce we had played. 
He must have seen Dulcine, and the shock had 
unbalanced him. I knew a mind unhinged by 
fright could be aroused again only by a like 
shock of equal violence, and I acted on this 
theory. 

I put the lantern on the floor before the 
huddled, trembling form of the youth. I backed 
quickly into the farthest corner, and the silly 
face followed me. Here in the darkness I drew 
Nsase’s sword. I had not looked upon it before 
save in daylight, and now it shone like the very 
[ 285 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

sword with which she danced. I had not 
swung it once over my head before the dull 
eyes opened wider. Noting the advantage, 
I whirled the blade bravely before me and 
rushed down upon the prostrate form of Kim 
Ling. He cowered back, displaying, by so do- 
ing, the first sign of mental activity. 1 threw 
the sword in the ashen face and shouted in the 
lad’s ears. I seized the back of his long coat 
and threw him to his feet. Then I spoke 
sternly, even fiercely, my mouth not an inch 
from the quivering eyelids : 

“ The Queen lives, Kim ; tell me she lives ! 
Long live the Queen ! ” 

The next moment seemed an eternity to me. 
Physicians never watched the action of a potent 
drug, when life was hanging by its slenderest 
silver thread, with more anxiety than I watched 
the effect of these words upon that disordered 
brain. I could see them burn deeper and 
deeper, as the seconds passed. One by one 
the quivering muscles relaxed. One by one 
each wild light died out of his eyes. Then 
the lad slowly raised his hand and saluted me 
with his first particle of sentient strength, 
murmuring thickly: 

[ 286] 


KIM 


“ Aye — the Queen lives — long live the 
Queen ! ” 

Then he fainted, and I laid him in his 
mother’s lap. But she saw the change in the 
face, listened to the regular, quiet breathing, 
and wept over him for very joy. 

As for me, I called my boy, and went quickly 
out into the night. I knew I need not look 
for more help from Kim. It would be days, 
perhaps weeks, before he would recover. What 
was to be done I must do alone and do quickly. 
I pulled Pak into the dark and asked him how 
Kim had come home. 

“ He was brought by the Men in Black who 
are priests at the Temple of the Tomb.” 

Those tongueless men in black ! Why had 
I not guessed it all before ? They were priests 
at the Temple, and Kim had been somewhere 
there holding watch over the Queen’s body 
even as his old father had watched it at Lynx 
Island. I must reach that Temple of the 
Tomb before the Men in Black reached it. I 
did not doubt that they would have other busi- 
ness in Keinning, and with haste I might out- 
ride them and reach their Temple first. 

I did not stop to wonder what had unsettled 
[ 287 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Kim, — though his condition was not a hopeful 
omen. For aught I knew he had looked upon 
Dulcine’s dead body, but I fought such fears 
away with desperate hope and laid out quickly 
my next step. 

Sending Pak to the Legation for horses, I 
followed him back to the Bell House to wait, 
and while there I made a large bundle of white 
strips of cloth from a couple of Kysang’s coats 
I found on his wall. 

Pak came and we were off at a gallop. 

As the cathedral chimes rang out two o’clock, 
we were tying the horses in a clump of bushes 
half a mile from the Temple. Then circling 
around, we made our way softly through the 
gloom. I know not what Pak took for a guid- 
ing star, but with great certainty he brought 
me to the foot of the little rise of ground on 
which the building stood. We then climbed 
upward and entered the building. 


£ 288 J 


CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE 

A QUEEN’S SOUL RAMPANT 

T HE chime at half-past two rang out from 
the city. We lay still as Indians, — my 
boy Pak and I. We could not even see each 
other, for it was the darkest hole I was ever in. 
Yet my plans could wait, if necessary, until 
morning light. And what I was hoping for 
might happen before then — if we were not 
too late. 

I spent my time trying to remember the de- 
tails of the Temple. But all I could recall was 
the dais upon which the golden Sarcophagus 
had rested behind the yellow curtains. I think 
we entered the building nearly where the hide- 
ous impersonation of Oranoff had stood and 
lured me away. I shudder even now as I re- 
member that face ! If I was right, then the 
altar was beyond ; I trusted to luck, and we 
crawled far along and stopped behind a screen 
which had been discarded since the funeral. 

It struck three. In the first dim gray of 
morning I could make out the outline of the 
19 [ 289 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

pillars of the Temple. The coming of morn- 
ing would change my plans. Yet while I was 
waiting I undid my heavy bundle and took out 
a quantity of white bands. These I wound 
about my arms and legs, Pak assisting me, 
wondering but silent. Then I wrapped my 
body closely, and, lastly, my neck and head, 
leaving a slit to see through. I took Pak’s 
long white cloak, such as all Quelpartiens 
wear, and bound it about my waist for a skirt, 
winding the scabbard of Nsase’s sword in white 
and hanging it at my side. We worked des- 
perately, and it grew lighter. Finally I lay 
quiet — and ready. 

Only a moment after, Pak seized my arm 
convulsively. I leaned toward him. He did 
not even whisper, but with his hand turned my 
head. I looked into the blackness beyond, but 
could see nothing. Then the soft tread of 
sandaled feet sounded outside the Temple. 
The sounds came nearer. They mounted the 
steps. The matting was drawn aside, and two 
men entered. 

The Two in Black had returned from Kein- 
ning ! 

My dearest hope was realized ! We crouched 
[ 290 ] 


A QUEEN’S SOUL RAMPANT 

lower, but I watched the Two intently. In the 
dim gray light their black gowns could be eas- 
ily followed. They stealthily crossed the large 
room to where the altar stood. There they 
stopped, but then as I looked upon them, plain 
to be seen there in the dim light, they vanished 
from sight ! 

I leaped to my feet. I could see more plainly 
now; no one was near the altar, and with a 
stern word to Pak, I drew Nsase’s sword and 
rushed forward. The hideous image stared 
down upon me as though frantic with fear. I 
did not blame it. The candles on the altar 
were burned out, but around it on each side I 
felt the hangings of heavy tapestry. I pushed 
one of these, and it gave way. Instantly I bent 
down and nearly fell into a hole through the 
floor, which had not been closed up. 

Sheathing the sword, I crawled under the 
hanging and let myself down. My feet reached 
a step, and I stood and turned about. The 
step rested on a floor of stone flagging. It 
seemed lighter at my feet, and I bent over. 
Then I saw a narrow passageway four feet 
high and thrice as long, with a torch burning 
at the end. 


[ 291 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

And it led straight as an arrow toward the 
mound ! 

Drawing my sword again, I crouched down 
and went swiftly where the passage paved with 
stone led. No wonder it took time to build 
the mausoleum if a stone-ballasted under- 
ground railway was a necessary adjunct! By 
the torch was a paper door, standing ajar. I 
looked beyond and saw the Two were standing 
in a hallway beside an open door with others 
near them. The hall was some six feet in 
height, and extended on into the dark, but ever 
straight toward the Tomb. 

My plan was not to be achieved by re- 
maining unseen. I waited just a moment. 
Then I threw the door open and rushed 
upon the group, waving my sword. With 
gestures of alarm, the men fell across the 
threshold and shut a heavy door as I flew 
by. The moaning which came from that room 
has not yet ceased to ring in my ears. I 
pitied men so superstitious — and yet I must 
have made a wild sight as a Queen’s soul 
rampant ! 

I did not stop here, for I knew that door 
would not be opened soon. I went on. I 

[ 292 ] 


A QUEEN’S SOUL RAMPANT 


came to a flight of stone steps, almost a stone 
ladder, ascending very straight. 

A cry of joy rose to my quivering lips. I 
sheathed Nsase’s sword, and ascended silently. 
The steps were in a round shaft dug in the 
soft limestone, perhaps five feet in diameter. 
As I slowly ascended, the air became heavy, 
and I caught the dense scent of spices and 
balsam. 

I breathed a prayer and crept upward softly, 
for I remembered how I was dressed — there 
were no others I cared to frighten ! 

At the top was a little room some eight feet 
square in which was a couch lying along the 
wall. Before it on the floor a paper lantern 
lay on its side ; the flame had burned a hole 
through it. The candle was still long and 
would have lasted Kim all night, I thought — 
for this was surely his room. The lantern, ly- 
ing where he had knocked it, proved the room 
had not been entered by the Men in Black, and 
I knew they would not come now ! 

All this passed through my mind ere I 
mounted the last step. My face was even with 
the curtain of the wall, and my eyes did not 
fall upon the heavily barred window in it until 

[ 293 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I was fairly at the top of the stairs. I sank 
quickly to my knees and crawled to it. The 
light cast by the bright candle fell downward, 
and, panting, I raised myself to the corner of 
the window and looked down. At first all was 
darkness, but then, as once before in the Temple 
of Ching-ling, a long, bright, shining object 
appeared slowly in the gloom, and my eyes 
rested full on the golden Sarcophagus of the 
Queen ! 

It was only by exerting my utmost strength 
that I kept from leaping to the window and 
crying out, but I feared the shock of the sud- 
den greeting. Besides, my hands were around 
the great iron bars, and these tempered my 
exultation and set me to thinking. 

The window was two feet square, four great 
bars two inches in diameter being planted in 
the solid masonry, in the hope of keeping the 
Queen’s soul in its gloomy cell. 

I crept to the couch on which Kim had lain, 
where I sat still, thinking, for my plans had 
now to be readjusted. As I sat there I remem- 
bered Kim and thought how nearly I had 
guessed the truth! The boy, like the father, 
sat facing the King’s precious treasure — never 

[294] 


A QUEEN’S SOUL RAMPANT 

to leave it save for short visits to his home. 
What a life that had been for the lad to look 
forward to! Would that white-haired boy ever 
return ? I doubted it. For this must ever be 
to him the most dreadful place in the world. 
Here he sat in the dim light, gazing idly, per- 
haps, through those heavy bars. Suddenly the 
golden cover, closed by the King’s own hand, 
started. I wondered if the youth had detected 
its first movement. Then a white hand was 
laid, perhaps, on the golden curved side. He 
must have seen that, and I groaned as I thought 
of such a spectacle in such a place. Then 
slowly, maybe, the murdered Queen, asleep 
two years, sat up in her cell ! 

Oh, with what terror the lad must have 
thrown himself headlong down those stone 
steps; little wonder the Men in Black heard his 
awful cry ; little wonder that, when they found 
him, it was not Kim. No mind could have 
endured such a strain and retained its delicate 
equilibrium. 

All this scene passed through my mind in a 
moment’s time. Soon I had altered my plans 
to meet the new conditions, and I righted the 
lantern, looked once more upon the golden 

[ 295 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

casket, and leaned for a moment in prayer 
against the heavy bars. 

Then, placing the lantern on the couch, I 
drew my sword and went down out of the 
room swiftly. 


[ 296 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY 


THE FLIGHT OF A SOUL 

R UNNING down the narrow hall, I passed 
the door of the priest’s room. It opened 
as I came to it, but was quickly closed, and I 
heard a man fall to the floor with a groan. 

This suited me exactly, for I needed a little 
time, and I knew that the door would not be 
opened soon again. I crept forward quickly 
to the altar, and came out to my boy Pak. 

Behind that discarded screen a transforma- 
tion took place. Tearing the bandages from 
my arms and legs, I quickly donned a brilliant 
uniform, and soon, after a few touches from 
Pak’s practiced hand, I stood forth as unlike 
the Queen’s soul, in which role I had been an 
undoubted success, as darkness is unlike light. 
Of the great bundle I brought, little was now 
left, and we hurriedly brushed the white rags 
into a corner. 

Then I walked to the center of the room, 
making a loud noise with my boots, and there 

[297] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

I uttered a long halloo. I repeated it soon 
vehemently, but I had to wait some little time ; 
it took courage for them to open that door 
again ! 

A door finally opened slowly on the far side 
of the building, and those twelve tongueless 
creatures dressed in black entered, paralyzed 
with fear, even holding one another’s hands. 
The door blew shut behind them, and every 
one whirled about with a gasp. 

But they knew me, or at least my uniform 
quieted them, and I treated them as roughly as 
any Russian as they filed to the long bench to 
which I pointed. 

Pak was my interpreter, but, on my oath, I 
knew not what to say first. 

“ The great King,” I began at random, but 
in a very loud voice, “ desires to know if all is 
well in the Temple of the Tomb.” 

The row of liars nodded affirmatively, look- 
ing sideways at each other to see if they 
agreed. 

“ Your rooms are comfortable? ” I queried. 

“ Yes." 

“ The service and appointments of the Temple 
are complete ? ” 

[ 298 ] 


THE FLIGHT OF A SOUL 


Again they nodded. 

I was still playing for time, but I now gave 
up in despair and blurted out : 

“ Send for General Kim Ling.” 

As Pak repeated this, the poor men shook 
like beech leaves in March. One of the two 
attempted to talk on his fingers, but gave it up 
quickly with a groan. Then he arose and 
pointed toward the city. 

I interpreted the gesture by asking: 

“ Keinning ? ” 

And all the gaping heads nodded. 

“ He is satisfied with His Majesty’s arrange- 
ment ? ” 

I put this lie into the tongueless mouths and 
they swallowed it whole, each looking blankly 
at his fellow as he wagged his head. 

There was something ghastly ridiculous 
about it all, and I kept from laughing only 
with effort. 

But I saw Pak was growing pale and, 
alarmed, I cut short this scene by coming to 
the point. 

“ His Majesty feared lest, in the commotion 
caused by the funeral, the Temple might have 
been neglected and might now be wanting for 

[ 299 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUEL PARTE 

some necessity, or that actual use might have 
shown the need of change. He is particularly 
anxious ” — and I whispered the words and 
made Pak do so — “ lest the bars of the Queen’s 
window are so far apart that her soul would at- 
tempt to escape.” 

The words told awfully on the trembling 
men. They fairly writhed. One arose to 
speak, forgetting in his excitement that his 
tongue had been removed. He sank to the 
floor. Another attempted to talk with his 
fingers, but they shook beyond all reading. 

The Quelpartien idea of a soul’s taking 
human form is matched nowhere, perhaps, 
save among that tribe of American Indians 
who leave a space in their funeral procession 
where the soul of the deceased may walk before 
the corpse. 

I remembered that these Men in Black were 
*he masons and carpenters of the Imperial 
Mausoleum, that they planned and built the 
Tomb, — the watcher’s cell, the window, and 
;he passageway thither from the Temple of the 
Tomb. At last, after a confused wrangle, one 
nan arose, stood before me, and held his quak- 
ing hands far apart, nodding wildly. 

[ 3oo] 


THE FLIGHT OF A SOUL 


“ Are the bars too wide ? ” I asked. 

Pak repeated my question, and a dozen heads 
began bobbing violently. 

Then I reprimanded them severely (not ask- 
ing for further proof), and roughly ordered that 
the error be corrected. 

Holding the package I carried more tightly 
under my arm, I started for the door through 
which the priests had entered the room, and 
when I saw they stood aghast at my pre- 
sumption, I turned to Pak and told him 
that the King had ordered the altar passage 
closed up. 

These words had their effect. They knew I 
was about my business. Then I ordered them 
to get their tools to remove the heavy stone in 
which the bars were planted, since double the 
number of holes must be drilled in it. This 
work could not be done in the Tomb, so the 
stone must be carried away. Fortunately, like 
the Great Temple, the sound of a hammer and 
mallet must not be heard here. 

I led the way, entering the higher hall by a 
passageway I had not noticed in my previous 
hasty incursion and no one being near me, I 
mounted the stone steps, as careful now to step 

[ 301 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

heavily as I had been careful before to step 
lightly. Once at the top, I ran to the barred 
window and cried: 

“ Dulcine — it is Robert — lie still until I 
come.” 

Utter silence reigned in that dim room. I 
wondered if Dulcine had fainted. Oh, the 
agony of that next half-hour ! 

The priests came up fearfully, and went to 
work. The activity made men of them again, 
and soon the base stone was loosened, and they 
looked at me for the order to remove it, won- 
dering, no doubt, if I would guard the window 
while the change was made. I gave the word 
by an eager gesture. They lifted it, and all 
went with it down the steep stairs. They 
were glad to get away from that black, open 
hole. 

And, oh, was I not glad to have them ? 

In a moment I had rushed headlong through 
it, down, down into that mass of cake and spice. 
My first thought was of the chill of the room 
as I floundered down into the space between 
the wall and pedestal on which the Sarcophagus 
rested. 

Then I was up again and over the Sarcopha- 
[ 302 ] 


THE FLIGHT OF A SOUL 


gus. It was closed. With a groan I fumbled 
at the cover, and as I wrenched at it, it slid 
along. It was not fastened within. 

My eyes were now on the long glass lid. I 
opened it, and — the Sarcophagus was as empty 
as the Tomb. 


1 303 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE 


A HELPING HAND 

1 REMEMBER going down the stone stairs 
and finding Pak and telling him to take 
me home. I remember coming back on the 
horse, but Pak must have done most of my rid- 
ing for me. When I reached the Legation old 
Dejneff took me into my room, and before I 
lost track of things entirely, I know I asked 
him to telegraph Colonel Oranoff to return 
to Keinning. 

I believed then that Menin had really won ! 
I believed that Dulcine was where he had told 
me she was, — on that yacht of Prince Tuen’s. 
What would be done to save her I could not 
tell. I had done all I could do, and I felt that 
my mind was letting go of the problem with 
which it had struggled, and vainly, for so many 
hours. It was hard to think that Dulcine was 
in that cold Tomb suffering I knew not what; 
but to think that she was a captive on that 

[ 304] 


A HELPING HAND 


boat — well, I could not, for my brain refused 
to be urged further, and sank down under its 
load like a spent horse. 

I fell asleep as the sun began to redden the 
windows, and it was not until the morning of 
the day following that I awoke. For a time 
I lay still with my eyes aching at this first 
glimpse they had of the light. I felt too weak 
to open them again, and for a few moments I 
was only conscious of the pain in them. 

Then a hand touched my brow ! 

I felt that some one was leaning over me, for 
shortly after the hand became lighter and be- 
gan moving softly back and forth. Its tender 
touch ran deftly like a woman’s from one burn- 
ing temple to the other. It lingered anxiously 
now and then on my forehead, and again grew 
heavy as though its possessor was looking in- 
tently over me. Now it brushed back my hair, 
which was wet with perspiration ; it held the 
damp, hot mass away, and then it came back to 
the old course from one hot temple to another. 

I knew that hand — but I feared I was 
dreaming or in a delirium. I opened my 
averted eyes, and, braving the bright sunlight, 
I looked about the room. Pak was in a far 
L 305 ] 


20 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

corner spreading down a tiger-skin which had 
been having an airing; I turned my head 
slightly, and there before the fire sat Dejneff, 
looking as ever into his great beard and hum- 
ming a song softly as he studied. Then sud- 
denly he sat up, and I closed my eyes as he 
arose and came over toward the bed. 

“ Miss Oranoff,” he said (and, oh, I ground 
my teeth in agony that the dream should be so 
real !), “I believe I ’ll shave.” 

A cheery laugh arose behind me. 

“You could then sing much better, I am 
sure,” answered Dulcine Oranoff as sweetly 
as in real life. 

Dejneff grunted, for the men always taunted 
the old soldier of his fine “ barrel-tone ” voice ; 
but he called Pak and went out of the room. 

Dejneff shave! It was too real, too true, — 
too good to be true ! I fell back and looked 
the other way. While the vision lasted I 
would look upon the one who laughed and 
spoke behind me ! 

And Dulcine Oranoff clasped me in her 
arms repeating those brave last words, “We 
will never part, Robert.” 

After a sweet, long silence together I began 
[ 306] 


A HELPING HAND 


to realize my dream was real. During that 
time even the crowd of questions that soon 
after came to my lips were swallowed up in 
perfect joy. The one great question was an- 
swered ; my great, killing fear was dead ! I 
sobbed while I kissed her hands, and at last 
drew her own wet face to mine and held it 
there until the doctor’s soft step at the bed- 
side aroused us. When he had looked me 
over and prepared his glasses and gone again, 
his eyes twinkling all the time, I gave my 
hungry questions the right of way. 

“ Who released you, Dulcine ? ” I could not 
think of any smoother introduction, and the 
question came bluntly, crowded by the host 
of other questions behind it. 

“ Father, of course; who else could, and when 
did you tell him, Robert? ” 

Her “father”! “Oh, Menin,” I cried out in 
my beating heart, “ you good mixer of lies and 
the truth ! ” 

“ He forgot the signal, though, Robert, and 
rapped twice ; but then he rapped three times 
a moment after. He was very nervous, and the 
moment Dejneff came he told him to take me 
home.” 


[ 3o;] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ Dejneff came ? ” I asked, breathing a prayer 
that the faithful old soldier’s days might be long 
and happier ones than these had been. 

“Yes; the moment I was out and on my 
feet. Father was just taking me in his arms. 
He trembled so I was glad Dejneff came, for 
Colonel Oranoff was in a hurry to catch the 
morning boat to Chefoo.” 

“ He took you in his arms ? ” I murmured 
through my teeth. Then I cursed the man 
under my breath. But, oh, how boldly he had 
played. What hellish hopes were Menin’s 
when he held in his arms the daughter of 
Ivan Oranoff — through whom he was sure of 
driving me to the King with my confession ! 

But now Dulcine was over me, and the light 
in her eyes, as I looked up into them, told me 
the secret her lips tremblingly withheld. But 
only for a moment. 

“ Robert, you came to the Legation the other 
night,” she then said. 

“ I thought you were in that Tomb, Dulcine.” 

“No — but — whom — did you come to — 
see ? ” 

“ Sahib Menin, Dulcine, who impersonated 
Colonel Oranoff at the grave that night, lured 
[ 308 ] 


A HELPING HAND 


me away from you and sent me a prisoner into 
the mountains ; who came back to free and take 
you prisoner too, in order to compel me to go 
to the King and tell the truth.” 

I saw I was not surprising Dulcine ; she had 
guessed the whole truth when she had learned 
of the impostor who lay in her father’s room. 
She knew something of Menin and his past. 

“ The night you came here, Robert, we be- 
lieved that it was father whom Dejneff had 
found in the streets ; the shock of the affair, 
coming at the time of your mysterious absence, 
overcame me completely, and I could not have 
seen you.” 

Then I remembered how oddly Dejneff had 
acted and how I feared he would ask me where 
Dulcine was, — when he was fearing that I 
would learn that she had been prostrated at 
the knowledge of her father’s injury. How 
we both feared that the other would mention 
Dulcine ! 

It was three days before Colonel Oranoff 
could come ; but three days’ time was not too 
long for Dulcine and me to put together the 
mazy story of those mad hours now past. 
It seemed as though the days were not long 

[309] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

enough, there was so much to tell and such 
happiness in the telling. Dulcine told me of 
her decision to play the Queen’s part and of her 
difficulty in preparing herself for the unusual 
role; she told me of the hours in the Throne 
Room, — of how she would have given any- 
thing she possessed to have been able to laugh 
in the King’s very face ! Blinded as she was, 
of course nothing of the pomp and majesty of 
the mummery impressed her, and she only saw 
the absurd side of it all. She told me of the 
long journey to the Mausoleum and the terrific 
jolting she received within that rude cart; be- 
fore the Tomb was reached she had removed 
the light bands from her face and hands and 
the white robe which she wore over her own 
fur coat. When the signal came she was ready 
to step out and go away in her most ordinary 
costume ; no, she was not frightened and had 
never once thought of not being released; the 
fear of this had never come to her ! The only 
unusual incident had occurred when she opened 
the Sarcophagus; a young Quelpartien army 
officer was hidden behind the curtains, evi- 
dently a secret guard. When she lifted the 
glass cover and sat up, the young man fell 
[3io] 


A HELPING HAND 


with a groan through the curtains upon the 
floor. Dejneff had drawn the body aside and 
left it there. 

Poor Kim ! The first shock had been a cruel 
one, which, through each hour in his own cell, 
watching a casket he knew was empty, preyed 
upon his mind until he became what I found 
him. 

In my turn I told of meeting Menin in the 
mountains, of his threat, of Nsase and Kysang 
and Kim, of finding Menin at the Legation and 
of my escapade in the Temple of the Tomb. 

It was during one of these long talks in the 
salon that Colonel Oranoff arrived. He kissed 
Dulcine fondly, holding my hand the while 
affectionately. Then he turned. 

“ You sent for me, Martyn ? ” 

“Yes,” I replied simply; “come, and I will 
show you why,” and I led him to Sahib Menin. 


[ 3ii ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO 


THE PASSING OF IVAN ORANOFF 

T HAT hall was not so long to-night! 

The room at its end was dimly lighted, 
but the occupant of the bed fully recognized 
me when I entered, and he knew, I am sure, 
the man who came wonderingly after me. 
The Cossacks stood erect as we came in, and 
Colonel Oranoff went straight to the foot of 
the bed. I turned on a full flood of light. 

The snarl from the pillows was not more 
suggestive than the soft “ Oho ” that broke 
from Oranoff’s lips as his form straightened 
and his hands clutched the heavy foot-board. 

There was silence a moment as the two 
looked each other face to face. 

“ He laughs best who laughs last,” I said 
with my usual triteness. Then Sahib Menin 
turned and looked at me. The glance was 
worth having lived long to see ! Dulcine had 
been under this very roof when he had boasted 
[ 3i2 ] 


THE PASSING OF IVAN ORANOFF 


of having possession of her, and he knew I did 
not know that it was false. He had staked 
as heavily on my evident ignorance of the fact 
that he had released Dulcine and turned her 
over to Dejneff, as he had on making me 
believe that he sent her away on Tuen’s yacht. 
He looked upon me as the criminal looks 
upon the hound that has brought him into 
the fiercer clutches of the law. 

“Wrong again,” the wretch answered, even 
now no whit dismayed ; “ he laughs best who 
laughs most ! ” 

“Silence!” burst out Oranoff, and Menin’s 
eyes narrowed to a slit and went to him. 

“Robert, what of this man?” said Oranoff 
to me. 

“ Everything ? ” I asked, knowing only too 
well that I could tell nothing unless I told 
it all. 

“ Everything, if so God gives you breath.” 

I began with Lynx Island, though acknowl- 
cdging freely that I was not sure Menin was 
there; I told of the accident which gave us 
our first warning, then of the destruction of 
the Temple. Oranoff sat down and listened 
with his head in his hand. 

[3i3] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

“ I reached Keinning too late,” I went on, 
holding myself sternly to the bitter truth, 
“ to tell the King that the Queen had been 
destroyed, and I found a woman who would 
play the Queen's part. I promised to release 
her from the Sarcophagus in the Temple of 
the Tomb.” 

Menin’s eyes were on me as I spoke, and 
the old leer was in them ; now and then he 
spoke as to himself. I felt — and it made my 
blood boil — that he hated me most because 
I was young and ignorant and chosen for a 
part which I graced poorly, and not because 
I had balked him. “ But you are a weak 
actor,” his eyes continually said. 

“ As I was at the Sarcophagus to open it, 
this man, dressed as Colonel Oranoff, called 
me away. Mad with fear at the words he 
spoke, I followed him,” here Menin laughed 
and I ground my teeth, “and in the dark, 
beyond the army, I was struck down from 
behind and taken into the mountains lashed 
to a pony’s back. This man returned, opened 
the Sarcophagus, and released the prisoner, 
intending to take her captive and hold her 
until I would go to the King and tell him 
[ 314 ] 


THE PASSING OF IVAN ORANOFF 


the truth. But Dejneff came up at that 
moment, and he turned her over to him.” 

Here Oranoff moved for the first time. 
With a sigh he turned and threw his face 
into the other hand. 

“ This man then came to meet me in the 
mountains and said he had brought the 
prisoner from the Sarcophagus to a yacht 
which he showed me was anchored near us, 
and promised faithfully to make way with 
her if I did not go to the King in the presence 
of two of his men and tell him that the 
Queen’s body had been destroyed on Lynx 
Island. I escaped the guards, came to Kein- 
ning and found this man had been attacked 
by a Quelpartien mob while again impersonat- 
ing you in Keinning, and had been rescued by 
Dejneff and brought here as Colonel Oranoff.” 

The room was very still when I ceased speak- 
ing, and it was Menin who broke the silence. 

“ The fly caught the spider,” he said, looking 
now at Oranoff. My nerves had been put 
on edge to tell the story I had just completed, 
and the man had angered me steadily through- 
out its recital. The sting of these words 
drove me mad, and with an oath I lunged 
[ 3i5 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUEL PARTE 

forward toward the bed. The nearest Cossack 
blocked the way and pushed me back. In 
a moment I had myself under control and 
I begged Oranoff’s pardon. 

Colonel Oranoff had arisen and was stand- 
ing now at the mantle, his fingers in his hair, 
his eyes upon the coals in the grate beneath. 
I knew he was coming to some definite con- 
clusion with regard to Menin. How would 
he deal, I wondered, with this man who had 
followed him closely half around the world ? 

I went over and found the brandy and soda 
and as I drank leisurely I looked through the 
room. “What a pretty picture,” I mused, “at 
the end of the play,” — Oranoff, two heavy- 
armed gendarmes, and the handcuffed Menin ! 
Though Menin was surely thinking of Oranoff, 
his eyes followed me. What would he have 
given to have had the “ fly ” once in his hands ! 

At last Oranoff came swiftly into the center 
of the room. 

“ Martyn, I will give you an hour,” he said, 
looking at his watch, “ to restore to ‘ Colonel 
Oranoff’ everything he wore when he was 
brought here. Dress him as ‘ Colonel Oranoff’ 
and call him by that name.” 

[3i6] 


THE PASSING OF IVAN ORANOFF 


I was dumfounded, and as Dulcine’s father 
left the room a new light came into Menin’s 
face. For once, perhaps, he felt outwitted, 
and the light of fear that was now unmis- 
takably present neither looked nor felt natu- 
ral. His hands moved nervously; the fingers 
twitched. 

I went mechanically to the table where I 
had thrown the false beard, and the poor 
wretch accommodated me by raising his head 
that I might adjust it on him. 

“Isn’t this imposing on an impostor?” he 
asked, with something of the old recklessness 
in his voice ; yet the tone died away pitifully 
before all the words were out. One pities the 
wildest and fiercest of animals when once 
brought hopelessly to bay. 

I felt that Colonel Oranoff would move 
swiftly now this man was once in his hands. 
I could not guess, though for three hours I 
thought intently, what course he could pur- 
sue. But the one fact that Menin was now 
“ Colonel Oranoff ” was a thrilling omen of 
what was to come. I remained at the bed, and 
it was not until near midnight that there was 
any noise in the building save the low rattle 
[ 3i7] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

of the telegraph instruments in the telegraph 
room across the hall. I knew Menin heard 
these ; he held his head cocked above his 
pillow, and it was plain he was studying the 
messages through the thick wall. But he 
could not read them, so I let him listen and 
trouble himself with the code of the Russian 
secret service. 

I was not mistaken in Oranoff’s moving 
quickly. It was after midnight when he re- 
turned; and with him came M. Grouchy and 
Admiral Holstrem and a body of marines who 
had accompanied the Admiral in his fast night 
ride from Tsi. 

When all were in the room Grouchy stepped 
quickly to the bed, and producing a despatch, 
held it up to the light and read : 

Colonel Ivan Oranoff, — For treachery to your 
country and your Emperor I exile you for life to the 
Kranstoff mines in Siberia, and God have mercy on 
your traitorous soul. 

Nicholas II., Emperor . 

Though just as a decree from Heaven, yet 
I ached with pity for the brave devil caught 
in the death-maw of his own trap. He was 
[3i8] 


THE PASSING OF IVAN ORANOFF 


not defiant now. For a while he seemed unable 
to grasp the meaning of it. But when he did, 
he only turned on his pillows and hid his face. 

Before morning he was taken by the marines 
and Cossacks to Tsi, looking for all the 
world like Ivan Oranoff. He had avoided 
a hundred traps set by others and fallen 
heavily into one set by himself. He had no 
redress; for the Indian Menin had disap- 
peared forever from human sight and knowl- 
edge and recollection in that Quelpartien hut 
from which “ Colonel Oranoff ” emerged ! 


[ 319 ] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE 


THE CAMEL’S HEAD 

C OLONEL ORANOFF was compelled 
to return to Chefoo and go on from 
Chefoo to Port Arthur; anxious as Dulcine 
and I were to be off, I had some matters which 
in conscience demanded my attention before 
I bade good-by to gray old Keinning and 
to Quelparte. It was arranged that we, with 
Captain Dejneff, should follow on a later boat 
and go on to Port Arthur with Colonel 
Oranoff. 

As affairs political quieted, Dulcine and I 
rode out once more into the bright sunlight, 
over Silkworm’s Head, or far across the valley 
of the Phan into the brown hills beyond. 
One morning we rode out early with Pak, 
who led, beside his own, another horse. We 
passed through the Chinese quarter of the 
city, and on by the Queen’s Mausoleum. For 
a time we stood in silence looking at the 
great Mound and the Temple of the Tomb 
[ 320] 


THE CAMEL’S HEAD 


at its base ; neither of us spoke, though little 
Pak’s eyes, as he glanced now and again at 
me, said many things. Then we cantered on 
and climbed the steep foot-hills to the spot 
where Nsase gave me the sword. The narrow 
path beyond was rough, but I pushed the 
horses on; and when noon came we ate our 
lunch on the summit of one of the gigantic 
boulders that stood beside the path. 

Then I gave Pak explicit directions, and 
we watched him go away up the mountain ; 
by midnight he had returned to Keinning, 
bringing Nsase with him, and leaving a goodly 
reward with the old woman who had taught 
the girl that dance that saved my life. Nsase 
could not express her delight at being brought 
to us, and Dulcine has found in her a serving- 
maid as faithful as she is interesting. 

On the day following I took M. Grouchy 
to the house of Kim Ling ; the lad had slept 
almost continuously since the night I had 
forced him to say that the Queen was yet alive. 
He happened to be waking as we came, and 
when I knelt down beside him he smiled feebly. 

I had had Pak take the doctor to him at the 
first moment I had been able to order it ; as I 
21 [321] 




THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

knelt, Kim reached and took my hand. M. 
Grouchy arranged at once with Kim’s mother 
to have him come to the Russian Legation 
when he had recovered, where a quiet, but 
lucrative position would be made for him. An- 
other watches now, in Kim’s stead, that golden 
Sarcophagus in the Mausoleum, — one whose 
hair, I trust, will never turn as white as poor 
Kim’s did, one who will never see the Queen’s 
Soul rampant again in those cold corridors as 
have the tongueless Men in Black, who not at 
all envy him his appointment ! 

Dejneff had kept his word and wore his long 
“ shave ” no more. I cannot say — for I am 
learning now to tell the truth once more — that 
it has improved his voice, but I can say that it 
has improved his appearance. I thought of this 
on our journey to Tsi that bright day when 
we bade good-by to old Keinning. In a fresh 
uniform and on a spirited horse, a six months’ 
leave of absence in his pocket, he looked the 
brave young cavalier Dulcine affirmed. 

We met Colonel Oranoff at Chefoo, and Ad- 
miral Holstrem’s private launch took us merrily 
over the eighty blue miles to Port Arthur, — the 
prize we had won ! 


[ 322 ] 


THE CAMEL’S HEAD 


That afternoon we were on deck when 
Colonel Oranoff suddenly pointed to the blue 
waves with a significant gesture. 

“ Blue water,” he said, “ how much that means 
to us ! ” 

“ How, Colonel Oranoff? ” I asked. 

Then he drew from his pocket the large card 
upon one side of which was written the menu 
of the luncheon to which we had done ample 
justice. He turned it over, and on the reverse 
side was a map of the Yellow Sea. He turned 
this cornerwise and folded it, striking the crease 
across from Shanghai to Tsi (Chemulpo). Then 
he held this up before us all and pointed to the 
outline of the Yellow Sea. 

It was the very image of a camel ! The Head 
was the Gulf of Laiotung ; the Neck, the Straits 
of Pechilli ; the Back and Breast, the body of the 
Yellow Sea. 

“You see the Camel’s Head?” he asked 
quietly. 

It was exceedingly plain. 

“ The great rivers of China and Korea” (Quel- 
parte), he went on, “empty into the Yellow Sea 
the sands which give it its color. We are now 
running into the blue waters of the Straits of 
[ 323 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

Pechilli — and here at the Camel’s Gullet stands 
Port Arthur, the Gibraltar of the Yellow Sea 
over which to-day the flag with the Emperor’s 
eagles was flung at sunrise. Japan’s exceptions 
to our lease of this port were removed upon our 
promise to throw down the protectorate estab- 
lished lately over Quelparte. Russia now is on 
the Pacific,” here the voice strengthened, “at an 
ice-free port ; at the Camel’s Gullet she will hold 
by the throat all the commerce with northern 
China, — all approach to Pekin.” 

And before night fell, there arose from the 
water the hills of Port Arthur and on the great 
mast, above the basin of solid masonry in which 
the huge dredges lay, floated the double eagles 
of Russia, — Peter’s Dream had come another 
hundred leagues nearer its realization ! 


[ 324] 


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR 


ENSEMBLE 

W E find life in St. Petersburg exceedingly 
pleasant, and my duty as Captain in the 
Czar’s Cuirassiers is not the prosaic thing that 
I had anticipated “ after West Point,” as we 
were wont to say, as though expecting to be 
buried alive ! Colonel Oranoff is with us fre- 
quently, though now I must call him Prince 
Meranoff ; he has a fine estate to-day far down 
on the Danube. His bold stroke in Quelparte, 
which gave Port Arthur to Russia without 
costing an ounce of powder, was a final triumph, 
and the Czar — that “ hardest and best-served 
master in the world ” — amply repaid his 
servant. 

The Prince’s busiest hours are spent in the 
foreign office here in St. Petersburg, for he is a 
high officer now in that silent army which is 
forwarding fast old Peter’s Dream. 

[ 325 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

When I read a story, I like to have it close 
quickly at the end, and now I have told mine my 
aversion to overtold stories rises up to bid me 
pause. Yet there is one scene that belongs to 
this little drama which began in far-away Quel- 
parte, that was acted here in St. Petersburg, 
which I cannot omit. We had not been settled 
here long before Dejneff came, and then to 
our great surprise Prince Meranoff brought us 
one day an invitation to dine with the Czar, — 
to whom this story of Quelparte had been told. 
Of course Dejneff was included in the invita- 
tion — and even Nsase ! All the details of the 
visit I left gladly to Dulcine and her father. 

And there, to the Czar and Czarina, Mrs. 
Martyn told her story, while the rest of us put 
in our parts as we were appealed to for them. 
Emperor Nicholas was particularly interested 
in the myth of insanity coming upon relatives 
of desecrated dead. I remember he was silent 
while we were laughing at a sober comment 
which Dejneff put in, and which the Czar 
plainly heard. 

But when Dulcine had finished, the Czarina 
came and kissed her passionately, though 
Nicholas said slowly in French, “ But the end 
[ 326 ] 


ENSEMBLE 


is not yet.” Then he told of the later plot- 
ting of Tuen against Whang-Su and other 
things of which even the Times does not tell. 
At last Dulcine forgot host and hostess and 
arose unsteadily from her chair, and when she 
spoke her voice sounded like a child’s cry, — 

“ I do not care for sequels, your Majesty.” 

Nicholas sat looking quietly at the flowers 
as the ladies moved away, the Czarina’s arm 
thrown around Dulcine, but he murmured low, 
as to himself, “ Nor do I, Madame.” 

In an adjoining room, heavily curtained at 
the center, we found happier themes for con- 
versation, when, to my utter surprise, the room 
suddenly became darkened. Dulcine pressed 
my hand assuringly, and I saw the surprise was 
for me. The heavy curtains instantly parted, 
and there in the half-light stood Nsase, a shin- 
ing sword in each hand — to dance before the 
Emperor ! 

In the mountains of Quelparte she had 
danced for my life ; now Nsase danced as for 
her very own. The tiger-skins, her only rai- 
ment, her long black hair again wrought into 
those snakelike braids, the swords bewildering 
in their myriad convolutions, were again won- 

[ 327 ] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

derfully beautiful. Though the tragic element, 
so vital in her performance in that mountain 
cave, was missing, yet there was an added 
glory here. The luxurious room, the deep car- 
pet, the heavy hangings, the gilded tinsel of 
the ornate frescoing, were much in keeping 
with the brilliant performance. The wavering 
lights, which, as I saw them before, were lost 
on the dull sides of that mountain cave, were 
now flashed back from a thousand glittering 
surfaces. 

I sat at the end of the little semi-circle and 
could look unobserved upon the distinguished 
little audience. The Czar and the Czarina now 
saw a thing new even to their eyes ; they lost 
not one curling ray of fire, not one reeling 
bolt, not one bright crash of flame. 

Beyond sat old Dejneff, — looking as though 
he had seen the Tiger-woman at last! He 
nursed his knuckles seriously, and now and 
then mechanically stroked his missing beard, 
whereupon he stirred uneasily. The flickering 
light played hide-and-seek in the furrows of the 
man’s face, and I knew he was far away in 
Quelparte. If I never see Dejneff again, I have 
this vision of his sturdy, honest phiz to remem- 
[ 328 ] 


ENSEMBLE 

ber — and the memory will ever be a precious 
one. 

Nearer me, just beyond Dulcine, Prince 
Meranoff leaned forward in a gr^at armchair, 
his face thrust into his hand, the steady eyes 
upon the writhing blades and lighted by the 
reflected fires. In the position he had hap- 
pened to assume, one shoulder was higher than 
another, and a tinge of the old fear of Sahib 
Menin ran through me as I looked covertly 
at him. 

Beside me sat Dulcine, and I looked at her 
as I felt for her hand in the dark. She was 
gazing intently upon the mad dance, but as I 
found her hand she looked up at me quickly — 
even as she looked that night in my room in 
the Russian Legation in Keinning when she 
had arisen so strongly to such a deed of in- 
finite daring. My thought became her own, 
and we kissed each other there in the gloom. 

And as I looked again for a last time from 
face to face, and then once more upon that 
thing of fire before us, Quelparte with the 
tender vistas of its paddy-fields, its white-robed 
inhabitants, their myths and superstitions, gray 
old Keinning and its secret which the broad 

[329] 


THE QUEEN OF QUELPARTE 

river Phan still bears with sealed lips to the 
sea, came back to me as it can never come 
again until I see those same faces lighted as 
they were that night by the trembling flashes 
shot from the sword-dancer’s blades. 











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